Six days and counting! Last night, I devoted time to opening statement. While I am excited to finally tell the story I’ve been working on for three years, I’m already feeling isolated. Yet, it is my job to seek justice.
I feel like I’m on a glacier and that there is a growing crack between my son and me that will place me on a drifting iceberg headed out to sea. Yeah, yeah. I know I’m being melodramatic, but I’m not liking this. I feel a little bit of distance from him growing each day, different from the day to day, he spends in school, with ABA and other therapies.
He knows he will be staying at home with Jessica instead of going to the office for therapies. I’m trying to have him look at the good and fun side to all of that. But the guilty mama part of me is sad that I will not be driving him all the places he is used to going with our regular routine. I’m sad that I won’t be able to look in the rear view mirror and see those darling cheeks smiling and laughing and repeating the same sentence for the 15th time in a row.
Last night, he fell asleep at about 11 and then at midnight he woke up crying. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he started yelling out “Green!” At first, I tried to comfort him and soothe him back to sleep. Forget it. He was awake and screaming for a green street sweeper toy. He does not have the toy. He wants the toy. And what do you think I did? Look, people, I’m tired too. I’m stressed. I want to go to sleep. I promised him the toy.
He still did not go back to sleep. He wanted to rock in the rocking chair. No sale. With my bum knee, I’m not carrying this boy to the rocking chair, braving all the toys, I’d step on – on the way over. Instead, I held him for about a half hour, wiping away his tears and stroking his hair until the weeping died down and he fell back to sleep.
I don’t think this was a bad dream. I think he senses on a subconscious level that things are changing and he is having trouble processing that change is coming. He can see that iceberg headed out with mommy on it and it disturbs him too. He just has a different way of expressing it.
I got about 5.5 hours of sleep, night before last. That’s pretty good. Yesterday was fairly productive. Work tonight continues. I already miss my little boy. But on I go. Because I will continue to be with my little boy. I will comfort and hug him and stroke his hair. I will protect him with everything I am. And I will continue to hear his lilting little echolalia which is actually a sweet sound when you think about it.
I know another mother is depending on me. Her daughter is not with us anymore. And that story must be told. I have to be the one to tell it.