I’ve been waiting on myself to begin. I knew it was time to get back to this and I knew it was time for a shift. I shut down the old blog, bought a new name, and created a new site. A new chapter. But how to begin, Becca, how to start. The pressure. Y’all are like,...
My mom died on April 1, just a little over two weeks ago. I don’t know which cliché to use – does it feel like yesterday or years? Both, I guess. My mom was a young 74 and did all the healthy things – the exercising, the kale, the vitamins, the check-ups. I look like...
Well, it had to come. Some of you readers have been with me for a while now. You’ve read these random blogs and followed along on Facebook as Jax came home from China, was diagnosed with all the things, and proceeded to grow up into a teenage boy. He’s gone from...
So we’re homeschooling over here. It’s going really well, I’d say. We have great people, Jax’s anxiety is at an all-time low, he’s happy, he’s inquisitive, and importantly, he’s learning things that are relevant to his 14 year-old-life and skills he’ll use for his...
I have sucked as a parent lately. Truth. 'Tis the season for holiday lights and wrapping paper and for mom to be a stressed out asshole. That should be a Christmas carol. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaayyyyy. My mom’s annoyed at everyone, please bring...
Dear Jax,It's Gotcha Day, little dude. We adopted you eleven years ago today. I love this day, but this year's celebration is bittersweet. Your grandmother died on Friday night. Your dad's mom, Grandma Mary. This year's Gotcha Day will be a little less inflatable...
Johnny made it to his Army base on Monday. Other moms are messaging me tips to survive boot camp, linking me to Facebook groups, introducing me to people who can show me the ropes. It's lovely, but I’m in a different sort of situation. “Hi Martha with your...
A day or two ago, Jax had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Jax has never met this man before, but I have, and I like him a lot. He regurgitates mountains of stuff from memory, has a Harvard degree, and is smart, smart, smart. All good stuff when you’re a mom...
Johnny, I've been down at the Capitol this past week fighting for a bill that would expedite the adoption of older kids. I'm pretty invested in it because you and I went through this. We had nine months to make your adoption happen, and had I not already had a giant...
And I quote: "And after fourteen years of foster care, Johnny was getting all As and Bs in school, happily helping around the house, had checking and savings accounts, and looking for his first job - all within just a few months of being adopted into a family. "...
I've spent the last few days outlining an open letter to the person who hurt Jax. A real doozy of a piece, cleverly called "Dear Person Who Hurt My Child." I was going to write and publish it this morning, throw it all out there and let the internet lovelies react to...
The adult who hurt my son will not be charged. I'm a lawyer. I get it. There are no witnesses, no physical evidence, and Jax ...well, Jax isn't the best witness. At 13, Jax still believes that Noelle the Naughty Elf stole my car keys and tried to take my...
I am a Helicopter Mom. No shame here, no self-deprecating humor, there is really no other option for this child tornado of mine. Maybe helicopter isn't the right word, I think I'm more like the car with the flashing lights that travels behind the Wide Load truck on...
I was coming out of an Ace Hardware the other day - feeling super handy, I might add - and on the way to my car, I saw a woman standing by a table raising money. It was a legit 100-gazillion degrees in Phoenix and I was entirely prepared to do the polite smile...
I was sick this week. Throwing up throughout the night, curled up in fetal position at the base of the toilet, not sure how clean the bath mat is, I do not even care, I will never eat blue cheese in a salad again, SICK. Being sick as an adult is lousy. Being sick as a...
Dear Johnny, I know this isn't where you thought you would be at age 17. Still in the foster system, a day pass on your birthday, preparing to be shuffled around again, and then again and again. I know. As a child, you must have thought ahead to 17 and pictured your...
Last week, a family asked about adopting my foster son, Johnny. A family. Adoption. This was a big deal for a sixteen year old foster kid who moved in with me last month because he had nowhere else to go and had every intention of aging out of the system as an orphan....
I had a moment recently. My son, Jax, and I had been in the car running errands for a few hours. I was singing along to the Beatles channel when Jax said, "Mom, I'm hungry." Well, yeah, breakfast was a hurried cup of yogurt three hours ago so that's reasonable....
A teenage boy is coming to live with me. Today. In eight hours, I will be an official foster parent. It's been only a few months, but I have notes upon notes about my short experience so far with this child welfare system of ours. I can't wrap my head around how we...
Last week, I was in my favorite place in the world with my 15-person family. Every few years, we head to a ranch in the mountains of Colorado. We've been going here since I was a little girl, and there is truly no place I would rather be. I told my clients I was out,...
I volunteered to go to an education meeting last week with a foster kid. This kid was in high school and not too interested in me at first. I didn't blame him, I'd never met him before and this was a child who lives in a constantly-changing world with...
It was late-September of 2008 when we brought my son home from China, just two months before December and our sparkly, over-the-top, American-style Christmas season. My little boy had no idea what Christmas was. He had no idea who Santa was. Hell,...
This time of year, man. It’s stressful and chaotic and my annual intention of providing a Pinterest-perfect Christmas lasts about a day and a half until I decide that F-bombs will definitely help me assemble the gingerbread house. Ahhh, December. This year, the...
Jax’s eighth Gotcha Day is coming up. “Gotcha Day” is the anniversary of Jax’s adoption from China. It’s the day Jax became our son, and like good adoptive parents, we celebrate. Jax gets a few presents, we decorate, we eat pizza and cake, we participate in general...
I was at a Ross the other day. I love Ross. There is one by my son's school, and on the days I don't feel like laptopping at Starbucks, I walk around in their exceptional summer air conditioning while having riveting conversations with myself about my need for their...
“What do you want others to know about parenting a special needs kid?”
This is a common thread in special needs world. This theme gets batted around frequently on Facebook and the blogs and the newsletters. Moms chime in, one after another, I want you to know she is a gift! I want you to know how much he has taught me! I want you to know I am better because of them! Included with these joyful, optimistic sentences are photographs of toothy-grinned kids proving to you how sincere their sentiment is.
All of these little positive snippets of special needs parenting are true. Of course, they are. I, like all of these parents, stand in the special needs cheering section with pom poms in hand, shouting so loudly and smiling so brightly that you don’t dare pity me or my son. He is valuable and worthy and I love him with a ferocity I didn’t know I possessed until he came along. This is all true.
But you know how, technically, not saying something is a little bit like lying? We shout from the hilltops about the good without even whispering behind our hands about the bad. It’s starting to feel like lying.
What do I want you to know about parenting a special needs child?
I want you to know it gets dark. It gets really dark, it gets scary dark. It gets I don’t want to wash my hair, I don’t want to meet for drinks, I don’t want to answer the phone dark.
Everyone has a breaking point. I think special needs parents live a little closer to it. There are days I can’t see it at all, but I want you to know there are days I live so close to it I can shake its hand and smell its breath. Hey there, Breaking Point. Is today the day?
The other night my son and I were eating dinner. As I got up to get him more milk, my son said, “B-29 bombers have bombay doors.” It was probably the 500th time he had mentioned B-29s that day. I am not exaggerating. He talked about them at Target, he talked about them in the pool, he flew like a plane to the mailbox, he wouldn’t eat his tomatoes unless he could rename them B-29s, he pretended my car was a B-29, he got angry and punched the counter with his small-boned fist, bruising it, when his therapist made him do something that was not about a B-29.
It’s a form of OCD. It goes hand-in-hand with the autism or the brain damage or the PANDAS or whatever our team of medical professionals thinks we’re dealing with today. Whatever the cause, my son’s narrow obsessions get stuck in his brain, and nothing can pry them out. There are days that there isn’t a 2-minute window without mention of a B-29, and this was one of those days.
“B-29 bombers have bombay doors” was the statement that made me tango with my breaking point that day. I started crying. Standing at the open fridge with a carton of almond milk in my hand, I started crying. I’m talking real, tears rolling down my cheeks, unable to stop shaking, ugly crying. I looked at my sweet, sweet son eating his gluten-goddamn-free chicken nuggets because I will try anything, and realized that this isn’t getting any better. We aren’t making any dents, and I don’t have any more tools to try.
I fell apart in front of my kid. I’m okay with that, emotion is human, but I want you to know that it took everything I had to stop crying and pull myself together. It took everything I had.
What do I want you to know about being a special needs parent?
I want you to know that on most days, this isn’t easy, and on some days, it just isn’t doable. I want you to know that I have a law degree, a nice house, health insurance, good non-judging friends, and yet, even with all of that, I still stood in the greeting card section of a Walgreen’s yesterday and wondered how long I would get to rest in an in-patient facility if I started picking up crap off the shelves and throwing it around the aisles while yelling like a lunatic. I want you to know that the mailman just rang my doorbell and I hid behind my counter because a fake smile might kill me today.
I want you to know that in between the cheering and the optimism and the toothy, grinning photos, some days are really dark.
Sincerely,
Becca
I love you. We can alternate days falling apart, I’ll take m-w-f and you can have t-th-sat, Sunday we will be foot loose and fancy free.
I love you. We can alternate days falling apart, I’ll take m-w-f and you can have t-th-sat, Sunday we will be foot loose and fancy free.
I don’t have children but I take a 12 year old with autism and ADHD out for respite each week and have done for over 4 years. The boy I take out sounds so much like your son. He will say the same things and ask the same questions hundreds of times a day. I have witnessed first hand many times when I have gone to pick up my respite boy how worn down his parents are. Your blog is brilliant. Keep up the good work x
I don’t have children but I take a 12 year old with autism and ADHD out for respite each week and have done for over 4 years. The boy I take out sounds so much like your son. He will say the same things and ask the same questions hundreds of times a day. I have witnessed first hand many times when I have gone to pick up my respite boy how worn down his parents are. Your blog is brilliant. Keep up the good work x
Oh mama, I feel you. Because my special needs son is relatively “easy” in the grand scheme of special needs, I sometimes get discounted. Yes, he’s easier in some ways than even a typically developing child, but it is by no means easy! The isolation is tough. I definitely feel you. Hang in there.
Oh mama, I feel you. Because my special needs son is relatively “easy” in the grand scheme of special needs, I sometimes get discounted. Yes, he’s easier in some ways than even a typically developing child, but it is by no means easy! The isolation is tough. I definitely feel you. Hang in there.
Sigh……….sorry. Mine is a pill, but I have never had to listen to B29 info all day, really rough!
Sigh……….sorry. Mine is a pill, but I have never had to listen to B29 info all day, really rough!
Thank you! Sounds so little but truly means so much
Thank you! Sounds so little but truly means so much
Thank Kimberly Rock for sending me this! I now for the 1st time in 11yrs I am not alone! Becca…. this truly made mercy with relief! I starting to think that I am weak & a poor excuse of a mother!
Thank Kimberly Rock for sending me this! I now for the 1st time in 11yrs I am not alone! Becca…. this truly made mercy with relief! I starting to think that I am weak & a poor excuse of a mother!
Beautiful honesty
Beautiful honesty
Great, honest post! Thanks for sharing! Oh, by the way, my son’s word right now is “booma”, in the past he’s had many words, such as candle, tornado, paw print, etc. Don’t you wish sometimes you were deaf???
Great, honest post! Thanks for sharing! Oh, by the way, my son’s word right now is “booma”, in the past he’s had many words, such as candle, tornado, paw print, etc. Don’t you wish sometimes you were deaf???
I like honest posts, like yours. It’s why I love reading your blog. You don’t pretend. You say it how it is and for those of us other mums struggling it helps us not feel so alone. It helps us know that because we have bad days we are not a bad parent. My son is undiagnosed and possibly for him it may be a speech and language disorder rather than autism but the echolalia and using sentences repeatedly and out of context sometimes drives me nuts. We are after all human. As always, I look forward to reading your next post.
I like honest posts, like yours. It’s why I love reading your blog. You don’t pretend. You say it how it is and for those of us other mums struggling it helps us not feel so alone. It helps us know that because we have bad days we are not a bad parent. My son is undiagnosed and possibly for him it may be a speech and language disorder rather than autism but the echolalia and using sentences repeatedly and out of context sometimes drives me nuts. We are after all human. As always, I look forward to reading your next post.
I have learned to show the dark and to wear it, i have to somedays just to cope with my sons and even my NT kids. my 16 year old with mild autism is so angry he slapped me the first time in the face so hard on the 4th of July I thought he left a bruise. I suffer from depression, as well as ADHD and somedays even my meds don’t work so i have learned to just screw the world and what they think. I show the dark i go out with my hair not brushed, stained t-shirt, dragging screaming kids because we are out of cereal for Nate. I have yanked the door open to the UPS man before in my pj’s at 3 pm because i was soo depressed and trying to deal with my Parkers obession of the day i just couldn’t get dressed. I don’t have a good support system, it is only me and my hubs. My family lives 300 miles away and don’t really care about us, since my mom’s death i hear from my dad only when he is coming to see his grandkids for the day. My hubs family is around but they have thier own lives and not interested in ours unless it is an emergency.Trust me I have tried meditation, exercise, bingeing on ice cream, binge eating and i have gained so much weight it is scary but still if i don’t show the dark, then i wouldn’t be here to see my kids grow up. I would have walked away along time ago or even worse, but I have learned to embrass the dark and the light. Sure my kids have awesome days, it is not all roses and rainbows either. So open the door and grab the mail with that look on your face, tell the friends I am having a really bad day and no to the drinks out, show the dark, share the dark because if you don’t you will suffer and so will he.
I have learned to show the dark and to wear it, i have to somedays just to cope with my sons and even my NT kids. my 16 year old with mild autism is so angry he slapped me the first time in the face so hard on the 4th of July I thought he left a bruise. I suffer from depression, as well as ADHD and somedays even my meds don’t work so i have learned to just screw the world and what they think. I show the dark i go out with my hair not brushed, stained t-shirt, dragging screaming kids because we are out of cereal for Nate. I have yanked the door open to the UPS man before in my pj’s at 3 pm because i was soo depressed and trying to deal with my Parkers obession of the day i just couldn’t get dressed. I don’t have a good support system, it is only me and my hubs. My family lives 300 miles away and don’t really care about us, since my mom’s death i hear from my dad only when he is coming to see his grandkids for the day. My hubs family is around but they have thier own lives and not interested in ours unless it is an emergency.Trust me I have tried meditation, exercise, bingeing on ice cream, binge eating and i have gained so much weight it is scary but still if i don’t show the dark, then i wouldn’t be here to see my kids grow up. I would have walked away along time ago or even worse, but I have learned to embrass the dark and the light. Sure my kids have awesome days, it is not all roses and rainbows either. So open the door and grab the mail with that look on your face, tell the friends I am having a really bad day and no to the drinks out, show the dark, share the dark because if you don’t you will suffer and so will he.
Amen Sister…Amen
Amen Sister…Amen
Thank you for putting my emotions in words. I’m from the Netherlands and have a lovely son with autism. It is all that you say it is. Beautifull and horrably tiring at the same time. I’ve shared your story on my facebook and it makes the people in some cases more understanding. They have absolutely no idea how our days can be. And this makes it a littlebit more understandable. (Sorry for my englisch….but I think you understand what I mean ?). My greatest thanks, Mijke.
Thank you for putting my emotions in words. I’m from the Netherlands and have a lovely son with autism. It is all that you say it is. Beautifull and horrably tiring at the same time. I’ve shared your story on my facebook and it makes the people in some cases more understanding. They have absolutely no idea how our days can be. And this makes it a littlebit more understandable. (Sorry for my englisch….but I think you understand what I mean ?). My greatest thanks, Mijke.
Beautiful and wholly true. From an autism dad who knows exactly what you’re talking about…
Beautiful and wholly true. From an autism dad who knows exactly what you’re talking about…
Days can be dark, black dark. You can feel so hopeless. It’s a part of our lives we keep hidden away from the rest of the world. So, thank you Becca for helping to shine a little light.❤️❤️
Days can be dark, black dark. You can feel so hopeless. It’s a part of our lives we keep hidden away from the rest of the world. So, thank you Becca for helping to shine a little light.❤️❤️
Dear Becca, You are sincerely amazing. Please know this, your posts give me the strength to move forward some days. And stand still some days. They help me carry on when I want to crumble. So from the very bottom of my heart, thank you. Warmest regards, Jill
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Dear Becca, You are sincerely amazing. Please know this, your posts give me the strength to move forward some days. And stand still some days. They help me carry on when I want to crumble. So from the very bottom of my heart, thank you. Warmest regards, Jill
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I am rereading this story..as I sit in the dark in my hurricane struck island of the Bahamas. This is some of how I felt on Sunday. In the midst of the hurricane stresses no power little water,limited phone service…there is still ugly dark autism to deal with. God help us.