Author: crossroadtrippers

Unfinished

~ crossroadtrippers ~ Leave a comment

It has been nearly six months since my maternal grandfather passed away. It has taken this long for me to process the shock of his death. The grieving process is long for me because it takes me a long time to grasp the reality of a death. In the past six years I have adapted to my son’s diagnosis by detaching myself from emotions when terrible events occur, including death. I guess it is a type of defense mechanism for me. I put my head down, push forward and deal with the emotional consequences later. When my emotions finally catch up with me, it takes me a while to recoup. Several events this month have me thinking about death.

People don’t like to talk about death. It’s scary. Death is a good reason I cling so hard to my faith. I believe in something that gives purpose to all things, even something as deviating as death but it’s still difficult to handle. As much as I believe it to be a natural part of life, there is no perfect way to grieve. It took two years after my uncle’s death for the reality of it to set in and I am now feeling it six months after my grandfather’s passing. It usually takes something to set off the chain reaction of grief in me. This time it was taking my grandmother to run errands. I drove her van (something my grandfather only did) and upon pulling out of the garage, I noticed my grandfather’s neatly organized garage. He had just started to put all of his nuts and bolts in little jars. He had hung several items on the wall for easy access and neatly arranged all of his tools on the shelf. He and my grandmother sold their home in Florida and moved everything back here last spring. My grandfather was in the process of merging his dual collection of items when he passed away. My grandfather was meticulous, a trait in which I can relate. I love seeing how he took pride in what little he had by caring about how it was placed. As I sat in their van, I realized he would not be able to finish organizing his garage. It would remain unfinished. His life was finished but now he had unfinished work. My grandfather didn’t leave work unfinished. That is what death is good at, leaving life unfinished.

With everyone so readily connected to one another, death is something  we can’t sweep under the rug and ignore.  I checked in on a woman who has been posting updates about a friend of hers who had recently been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. Her friend had been sedated and clinging to life. She ended up passing away. She is in her early fifties and has two grown children. She lost her fight with a sudden disease that robbed her of her life and possibly some meaningful final moments with her family. Recently I received a newsletter from the alliance associated with my son’s disease and it’s cover story was about a 17 year-old girl who just lost her fight with the same incurable disease. It is scary and humbling. Life surrounds us with death. If it isn’t before us, it is around us. Sometimes death is one of the strongest reminders to enjoy life.

Several weeks ago my son had a seizure that stopped his breathing. This is the first time this has happened. I became so worried that I began researching how to help finance a seizure monitor for his bed and I am trying to get him on a list to receive a new epilepsy wrist monitor coming out in the spring. The concern was there prior to this incident but this made me rehash all the fears I had when he was first diagnosed. I felt like I did before I learned how to build up a wall to guard my emotions. I once again feared that a seizure will take him from me while we slept or if he were to seize away from home, I wouldn’t be there if he were to cry for his mommy. These and many other fears could paralyze my life. Just like a preoccupation with death, it could control my living but these thoughts have done something profound. Facing the fear of death and the mortality of those I love has made me want to fulfill my life. Without having to look death in the face, I am certain I would not be so appreciative of life. At the end of the day, I don’t think about the housework I have to do or what I need to plan for supper the next day, I worry if I put my best effort into making today the best it can be for my family. I think about how I can try harder to better myself for my family with anticipation. I try to remind myself that no one is guaranteed a tomorrow so if I am fortunate enough to open my eyes in the morning, I need to make it count. If tomorrow didn’t come for me, what can I show for it besides a list of unfinished projects? My goal is to find a way to live with our hindrances and find a way to live beyond anticipation. Can I live in manner in which my kids will know I fought for happiness? Can I teach them to strive to do something everyday to make life count for something more? Or will I hand over my life and my son’s life to disease and hoist up the white flag until death? Despite what made-up fantasy has us believe, death is harsh and unbiased. It doesn’t care if my son hasn’t had a chance to experience life, if I have four children that need me, or if we need our best friend. In the end, life is a blur of memories. Choose to make those mirrors into the past count. Don’t wait until disease or death rattles you awake. Wake up and live now. Finish the projects that have meaning and appreciate the outcome. Unlike my grandfather’s unfinished garage, our lives don’t have invoke sadness. Those unfinished projects he left may never be finished since no one could finish them as he had planned but we can appreciate what he did accomplish. I can use what I have learned from him and put the finishing touches on my life, even if it is just for today. Everything is worth the meticulous work, even my unfinished self.

*d*

Childhood is Still Waiting

~ crossroadtrippers ~ Leave a comment

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Do you remember playing in the tub as a kid? The goal of a bath was not to get clean but to play until the skin on your feet and hands got wrinkly. Do you remember picking scabs, counting bruises, jumping off the couch, or on the bed? How about spending who knows how much time figuring out all the quirky little things our little bodies could do? This entailed sitting cross-legged with both feet on top of the thighs, trying to do a handstand or a somersault,  and climbing trees as high as possible until mom got nervous. I remember riding in the car hoping to see a mirage on the road, wishing we would drive over a large hill, and surfing the wind with my hand when the windows were down. It didn’t matter how much time was wasted swinging at the park, talking to friends, or playing basketball because there seemed to be an endless amount of time to grow up.

As an adult, time seems more limited and it’s hard picking a pointless task to spend our precious time pursuing. I find it hard to spend too much time playing make believe with my kids because there are piles of laundry waiting to be washed, dirty dishes in the sink, and dinner always needs to be made. It’s a shame because my kids will grow too fast and there is a quickly fading window of opportunity to have kid-fueled adventures.

Days after my son was diagnosed, I was crying to my mom on the phone. I told her that I felt like I would never be able to move forward and enjoy being a mom again. She gave me what seemed to be odd but simple advice. “Next time he takes a bath, put on your bathing suit and take it with him. Put a bunch of bubbles in the bath and play.” She gave no explanation and I wondered if she truly realized the magnitude of what I was telling her. How would this make my broken heart feel any better? I didn’t really want to do it but I knew my mom, she would make sure I did as she asked so that evening we drew him his bath and filled it full of bubbles. I put on an old pair of shorts and a tank top and sat with him in the tub. He was only three months old, so I sat him on my knee and put the bubbles on his little nose and in his hair. His older brother stood at the edge of the tub and played with the bubbles as well. My oldest thought the notion of mommy in the tub with her clothes on and covered in bubbles was too funny. I began to smile again. In the middle of the bubble filled tub, I was reminded that my newly diagnosed son was the same boy he was before we learned of his diagnosis. He needed all the things he had before, especially the best of his mommy.

The few minutes I spent acting like a kid didn’t solve our problems. There are days I fret and I have had many more tear-filled conversations with my mom. What it did do is remove me briefly from the fast-paced world of adulthood and remind me of why it is such a joy to have children. My kids are oblivious to the responsibilities of adulthood, as they should be, but I cannot be oblivious to their childhood. My children need me to be an adult but they also need me to understand what it’s like to be a child and for that, I sometimes need to act like a kid. I need to let the laundry, dishes, and dinner wait so I can let my kids, and myself know just how fun it is to be a kid.

So, if you are reading this post, here is my challenge to you: go be a kid. Do it. Blow bubbles, find a park and swing (make sure you lean back as far as you can on the way forward so it looks like your feet are touching the sky and say, “I’m flying!”), run up a slide, hop from one piece of living room furniture to the other pretending the floor is lava, color (on your stomach and on the floor), make a blanket fort, or draw yourself and bath with way too many bubbles. Yes, adulthood is about maturity but it doesn’t mean all the fun of childhood should be lost. You will be amazed what a few moments away from adulthood will do for you. Make time for moments you will look back on and smile. So, go ahead, take a moment, be a kid.

*d*

Three is a Crowd in the Legend of Me

~ crossroadtrippers ~ Leave a comment

Everyone has a brood of exes and as my co-blogger has pointed out in her last post, running into one can be, well, interesting. I have three major exes in my life, one ex-boyfriend, one ex-fiancee, and an ex-husband. I have been fortunate to avoid all three for the last twelve plus years. Sure, there is Facebook with the occasional photo but that is a picnic compared to the awkward confrontation. Fortunately my ex fiancée (I will call him Penny Roller) moved out of town and then out of state, my other two exes are still local but I moved away for ten years, thus making a run-in very unlikely. I have since moved closer to my hometown so running into my ex-boyfriend (we will call him Duff) and ex-husband (Holes) a real possibility.

I don’t look forward to the awkward day I am face to face with my past so I hope it never happens. Running into Duff wouldn’t be so terrible. Despite my memories of his rather mopey mug, he was a nice guy and I worked with his wife after high school and I really like her. After sixteen years, I wouldn’t know what to say to him. The last conversation he and I had, we were high school freshman. Penny Roller would be an interesting encounter. We got engaged in high school and he abruptly ended our relationship. I found my own type of closure but there is too much in our past that would be hard to avoid. There are more humorous moments in our shared past as his nickname implies. He dropped out of high school and joined the army while we were together but between these adventures, he worked sporadically. I remember him rolling loose change to afford to put gas in his noisier than necessary truck to “go mudding” (yes, driving your big ol’ truck in an overabundance of mud is a thing in our state) or buy cigarettes. What I boiled down to was a literal notch in his headboard (he had quite a few). The dreaded meeting would be with my ex-husband, Holes. The darker details to this relationship are spelled out in one of my previous posts. He was the man who had obvious red flags that I somehow ignored. I married him out of guilt and fear of hurting his feelings. I ignored the moldy dishes that were rotting in his sink, the odd collection of figurines (earning him the more humorous nickname Senior Nutcracker), and obvious self-centered behavior. I didn’t want to be another disappointment in his life so I chose to turn a cheek to his lack of interest in aesthetics. Holes had a regular rotation of holey clothes and stories by the time I walked out the door. I know how he is and I anticipate an encounter would entail him telling me how terrible of a person I am.

My trio of exes are a string of examples of my self-loathing behavior. I ended the relationship with my ex-boyfriend after we dated a good portion of my freshman year. Things got awkward with Duff when we stopped socializing with friends and I began to feel like I was married at 15. I left him and began dating Penny Roller. I was taken with him, so much so that I often thought of him long after I married Holes. Penny Roller was one of the many reasons I ran away and right to Holes. I had little confidence in myself and thought I needed to settle for the dependable Holes over the Penny Roller’s antics. I didn’t give myself a chance to swoon over other boys (aside from my life long obsession with Wesley from The Princess Bride), but I did have my share of dates between the three. My legend was just a fable, tucked quietly away in the corner of my mind.

It took a few hundred half-witted smiles, several empty boxes of cigarettes, and a shelf load of odd knick-nacks later to finally break free of my trio and meet my legend. I am still amazed by him today. The day may come when I encounter one or all three of the ghosts from my past but despite what happened, I am finally confident in the decisions I have made. I know a chance encounter will no longer bubble up lingering feelings because I know I am exactly where I am meant to be. What memories I choose to hold on are the ones I can laugh at and others that solidify the best decision I ever made.

*d*

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Wesley: “As you wish.”
Me: “Giggle, giggle.”

Distorted Legends

~ crossroadtrippers ~ Leave a comment

Last week, I had probably the weirdest reunion since the time when I found myself unwittingly participating in an awkward situation in-the-making at an after-bar party thrown by a third-tier friend and his roommate. I didn’t find out until I got in the door that the roommate everyone had been referring to as Bill (not his name, but you’ll get the point) was actually the guy I’d lost my virginity to and dated for a year and eight months as a fifteen to sixteen-year-old. I’d known him as William (again, not his name, but you see what I mean). I’d dumped him over the phone in a screaming rage when I found out about a series of lies he’d been telling me for our entire relationship. If the fact that he lied to me doesn’t make my method seem any less harsh, this was also the previously mentioned boyfriend in Filling In The Blank with the slicked back hair, tiny pony tail, and an uncle in the Chicago Mafia. See, he totally deserved it. Oddly enough, the last time I’d seen him was when he started hanging out with an ex of mine that I was still semi-friends with. The Jenga Game of guys doesn’t end there. I went to said Ex’s apartment with my Current Boyfriend to give him some of Current Boyfriend’s ugly old furniture. Tiny Ponytail was there, much to my shock. It turns out that things I had revealed to Ex Boyfriend were not kept confidential due to our semi-friend status and Tiny Ponytail knew about some things I didn’t want him to know about. Let’s just say, we both had reasons to break up with each other. He wasn’t necessarily mad, but he definitely wanted me to know that he knew.

You can imagine the awkwardness of being in his apartment and seeing him again after somewhere around seven years. Well, it actually turned out okay because we said hello and acknowledged how weird the situation was. It’s a good example of how time heals wounds. We’re definitely not besties, but anytime I see him, I say hello with a smile and he does the same. But, I digress.

My point is, I had another similar experience while out to eat with my mom at the local buffet. We were seated in a remote corner (just where I like to be) when this guy and his wife were seated a booth behind my mom. I’d had a huge crush on the guy when I was a tween and teenager when he’d been our neighbor. Captain Crush had always known it, too, and liked to tease me relentlessly. Ever since he’d gotten married, he’d been very leery of making eye contact with me when we ran into each other, let alone small talk. I’ve always sensed a tight leash was present, though I’ve no proof of that. I signaled to Mom that he was behind us and she turned around and said hello and I waved and it was all rainbows and unicorns. His wife even smiled at us. Then things got exponentially weirder.

While at the buffet, I looked through the steamed-up sneeze guard and saw the guy who first kissed me when I was thirteen. He was eighteen at the time. In hindsight, that probably was more disturbing than I found it when it happened. That first kiss ignited an infatuation that had been kindling for the previous two years. I was a giddy mess anytime I was around him and my friends and I mooned over him like he was Mark-Paul Gosselaar or Scott Baio (What? Am I the only one who thought Charles in Charge was a hottie?) First Kiss had long hair and was about six-three. I thought he was so smart and wise and the best kisser I’d ever…well, he was the only kisser I knew of at the time. He made me so nervous I would shake sometimes.

I would say that seeing him through the glass gave me that same giddy trembling, but honestly, I’d traded that in for a strong distaste for him. I’d seen First Kiss over the years and he’d always been hopeful that something would happen between us that was beyond friendship. Unfortunately for him, as I was nearing the end of my teen years, I was also realizing that his status as legend in my mind was fading. So, over the last twenty years when I’ve been around him, I’ve seen the truth. Where I’d once seen intelligence and wisdom, I now saw pretentiousness. His long hair was long gone and his height was no longer attractive as he’d stand before me, smoking cigs and pontificating about life. Another gem I unearthed during the last time I’d associated with him was that he had nearly no boundaries. He started calling me at work asking me to bring him cigarettes. When I got a new job in a customer service call center, First Kiss called there and when I wouldn’t answer my desk phone, he had them page me so he could talk about pretty much nothing. I was afraid his nonsense was going to cost me my job. I told my mom about it and she called him up and told him to stay away from me. And that was the end of our contact until I ran into him at a bar one night about three years later. I tried to talk to him but conversing with someone so egocentric is difficult at best. I cut my night short just to get away from him.

Then, there he was at the buffet. I managed to dodge him and scurried back toward my table. I stopped at the booth where Captain Crush sat and said through gritted teeth, “First Kiss is here!”

Captain Crush busted out laughing and said his wife had just pointed that out!

As I sat down with Mom, I realized that First Kiss was actually sitting directly behind Captain Crush, facing me. I tried hard to keep mom’s head between him and me.

You might wonder how all of this is related. Or maybe not. But I’m going to tell you anyway.
First Kiss and Captain Crush were good friends in high school. Our neighbor, C. Crush, brought First Kiss around when they were sixteen. They liked flirting with my mom because she’d been a nude model and was a bizarre type of local celebrity for appearing in a girly magazine. I was smitten with both boys. For all of us to be seated in the same fifty square feet, after all those years, was a little Twilight Zonish for me.

What was truly unsettling was when we finally decided to reveal our presence to First Kiss. He came over and began the most awkward conversation I’ve had in quite some time. Maybe ever. If uncomfortableness was measured in plates of food, then I had eaten every last thing on that buffet. I won’t go into what he said because that’s not important. It’s the realization that matters. I’ve known for a long time that he wasn’t the guy I imagined him to be as a thirteen-year-old. It’s incredible though, just how far he’d fallen from that pedestal. And it isn’t just my perception of him that tumbled. It’s very much a reality. He’s like so many teen heartthrobs who fall out of favor, start spiraling downward, dabble in drugs and alcohol, suffer from poor physical health, poor mental health, and have no friends. I felt bad for him, even as I wanted to get up and leave. Quickly.
It wasn’t just him either. Captain Crush packed on the pounds and though he still has a baby face, it’s that of a much hairier, much fatter baby.

I know for a fact that Mom is no longer the stuff teen boys shut themselves in the bathroom for and that I fell off my own pedestal a long time ago. I’m pretty sure the thing is actually on top of me, I’m so far removed from the heights of young, thin and busty. It happens to everybody eventually. Youth is one of those things you never fully appreciate while you have it. You spend the rest of your life remembering it, sometimes grabbing at it, but almost always realizing you’re better off now than living amongst a bunch of distorted legends.

Wasn't he dreamy?
Wasn’t he dreamy?

~L~

A Friend for Every Season

~ crossroadtrippers ~ Leave a comment

Winter is finally winding down and so begins preparations for spring. Since becoming a mom, spring cleaning means a little more than just cleaning house. I also have to spend a few hours putting back winter coats, gloves, hats, sweaters, etc. and dig out the spring jackets, short-sleeve shirts, and outside play toys. There are always old things to put away until next winter and others to be discarded as they have filled their use. I go to the store and buy new packs of bubbles and chalk. I also pull out favorite bouncy balls and bikes. There are so many things to do at the start of a new season.

Spring time is also a time when people start buying cars and looking at houses. In the three plus years we were trying to sell our home, my husband and I knew we had to wait until spring to see a fresh batch of homes hit the real estate market. There is something about being able to open up a window and let the outside come in after being shut off for so long that makes so many people ready to take on something more. Sometimes the fresh feeling of the new season can make a person make poor choices. For example, nice weather seems to bring out the worst drivers. Wait until the first sunny, fifty degree day ahead. The nutty people will be out cutting people off and driving like they just got their licenses (Yes, I have an issue with irrational drivers). Sometimes the spring fever hits and people go out and buy a new car because, hey, it’s spring. When winter comes around, they will realize it was a poor purchase. I admit, I have been there before. When life feels new and energetic, there are chances to be taken and adventures to be had and the consequences of which can be dealt with later. When the cold once again arrives, it is time to think of stocking up, being reliable, and preparing for the worst. There are always adjustments to be made and changes to be seen in every season, even with friends.

The older I get, the harder it is to keep in contact with those dear friends I had grown up with. Now over fifteen years have passed and I barely have a handful of those friends. I now have what seems to be a supply of seasonal friends. These friends are not always around but come out when the seasons of my life demand and they are not always meant to stay. Even those old friends I regret spending seldom time with are sometimes only meant to be in the early season of life. We all need a friend for the changing seasons of our lives. We all change and grow and are provided with just the right person to help us forge ahead. At a hard time in life, we may need that reckless and crazy friend that will do almost anything to put a smile on our face. Sometimes we need the irrational driver to jump in the front seat with us to test our boundaries and dare us to go just a little further. Yet another friend can be there to clean up and sort for the next season of life when a big change has happened. Most of the time, friends seem like those favorite bouncy balls my kids ask me to take out in the spring. They bounce in and out of life but are always so much fun when they come around. Every once in a while, a friend no longer fits in the natural rotation of life and we have to separate but there is always another on the horizon.

I have struggled with my own inability to make friends easily and I am often saddened by the sparse group I have left. I have cried and wondered how I needed to change in order to feel close to more people. The older I get, the more I realize the quantity does not matter. Who and when is what matters. Life has a good way of providing just what we need right when we need it, although we may have to look a bit harder. Those old friends may not be around today, but they were there when we needed them. Those bouncy ball friends, they are awesome to have when we need a fresh breath of air, and those steady friends, they are the best of all. The ones who are around for every season, no matter how many, are the ones truly worthwhile.

*d*

Silhouetted in the Background

~ crossroadtrippers ~ 1 Comment

I wrote a coming-of-age novel about guy and a girl who become best friends in elementary school but are ripped apart in high school by their very different personalities, outlooks, and plans for the future. Losing friends from your childhood is a normal, albeit sad, part of growing up. There’s a lot of gut wrenching scenes where they cut each other down while trying to protect their own feelings. It’s these fights that help drive the two characters apart.

It turns out, when you’re in your thirties, friends slip quietly away. There isn’t usually screaming or even scowls because it happens as subtly as time flying by, and everyone is so exhausted by life that even if they notice, they don’t speak up to stop it. There are children, spouses, jobs, and life in general that seems to drown out so much of what used to be in the forefront.

I’m mindlessly surfing Facebook and see my pal—we’ll call her Trixie—posted pictures of her kids. It reminds me that I haven’t seen Trixie in weeks, no wait, months. Someone I assumed I would always be close to now feels almost like a stranger. Almost.

If it weren’t for those tidbits of conversation, the random hilarious picture comments, the echoes of who we used to be, the thin threads tethering us to one another might finally snap. But it’s these moments that remind me that our friendship isn’t based on time spent or interactions had, but the fact that even after months, we could sit down and laugh like no time had passed at all. We’ll always have a connection, even if the ties finally break and we drift so far apart that not even an off-color joke over the internet can pull us back together.

hand-reaching-out1

I guess that’s also what happens in my novel. I wrote about something I thought happened to other people. Not us. Trixie and I were solid. But the truth is people fade in and out of your life for any number of reasons. It doesn’t lessen their impact on your heart or their image silhouetted in the background of your mind. We’re all who we are partly because of the people in our lives, past and present. We shape each other and leave our marks and most times, our time together is fleeting. The truly meaningful relationships in our lives can fade, but they’re still there, waiting for a chance encounter, a long over-due phone call, to come out of the background and back into focus.

~L~

Reply by *d*

I had started my last post before you posted this one and it was so similar, I had to finish it. It is strange how we could be thinking along the same lines. It is sad to drift from friends but as you said, there is always time to reconnect and remember those good times. I am grateful for all my friends also, no matter when they drift in or out of life.

Should We Forgive or Forget?

~ crossroadtrippers ~ Leave a comment

Have you ever fooled yourself into thinking that you don’t care? For example, has someone broke your trust by sharing secrets about you or have you caught a group of co-workers gossiping about you and although it hurt you said, “I don’t care”? You knew when the words were muttered that it was just an illusion but for some reason you thought by saying the words the pain would cease. I’ve done it. When things like this happen, I think of what’s next and the old saying “forgive and forget” comes to mind. I want to forgive but forgetting hurt is difficult.

Hurt is an unfortunate part of life. No matter how much we shield our feelings from people, events, and unpredictability, hurt will eventually find us. Since hurt is coming, it may be a good idea to think about how hurt should be handled once it arrives and how we act once we decide to let it go. There is always advice to be found on the subject. In my thirty plus years of life, the quote, “No one can make you feel that way without your permission,” has surfaced multiple times. Maybe I don’t understand these words as I should, but how I feel doesn’t always seem like a controlled emotion. I have been at the receiving end of insults and lies with the sole purpose of hurting me. The culprit knew just what to say and went straight for the kill. If my enemy knew how to cut me where it hurts, wouldn’t I? We know how to hurt each other because we know what would hurt us. There is no internal process with me that can shut off the negative feelings resulting from negative actions. Sometimes I don’t feel like I have a choice about what I permit to hurt me, just who.

So brings us the quote, “Forgive and forget.” It is a lovely sentiment but somewhat foolish. Yes, in a perfect world we could forget all the bad things someone else has done to us but that would be difficult, even for someone like me who has a terrible memory. So, I don’t think we should forget. Why? If we were to forgive someone for continually hurting us and allow that person back into our life, we can predict with some accuracy what will continue to happen. We will get hurt. We have to allow ourselves some recollection of the way other people treat us. If not, we will have to start getting used to fooling ourselves into thinking that we don’t care. I am tired of pretending that I don’t care about how I have been treated. I am tired of feeling like I will never be good enough to earn equal respect with some people. I am a reserved person in many ways and my trust isn’t easily earned. It is hard to gain my trust again once I have been hurt. So I have had to teach myself to back away from some people and keep a protective distance. It is a hard thing to do because I like to give people as many chances as I can to have some sort of relationship with me but that isn’t always possible. The best I can do is to forgive differences but not forget that my trust was broken.

That is just how life is; we can’t get along with everyone and not everyone wants to get along with us. Honestly, there are people who don’t want to get along with anyone else. It is also a great part of the diversity of being human, we are all so unique. With this we must accept that pain will come at the hands of others. The best advice I can give about getting along with others is this: make sure opinions about other people are not based on any opinion other than your own, especially not based on gossip. Also, never judge someone based on outside appearance. I have received some crappy gifts wrapped in pretty packages. Haven’t you? This means we will sometimes be hurt by people before we know what they are made of, but we will have the peace of mind that we know for ourselves.

Upon finishing up this post, I ran across a verse of the Bible. Not everyone is religious but this verse is a good piece of advice that sums up what I want to say very well. Luke 6:31 (NLV) “Do to others as you would like them to do to you.” I have had a hard time wondering why some don’t allow me an opportunity to get to know them. At a recent trip to the grocery store, my husband and I ran into a mutual acquaintance. I have previously shared with my husband that she has been known to avoid me or fails to even acknowledge my presence. On this day, she did it in front him. She spoke to him for a minute and I said “Hi!” She then walked away. She heard me, looked at me, and proved my case. My only question was, “Why?” The times I have spoken to her have been pleasant enough but what about me makes her shut down? I may never know. I can speculate that maybe she formed her opinion of me based on gossip, maybe my shy nature comes off poorly (I get that a lot), or she just chooses not to associate with me. I don’t know but I will continue to try to give her a greeting or smile, even if she doesn’t like it because that is how I would want to be treated. Maybe someday she will return the pleasantries.

I know when I am treated like I don’t have feelings, it hurts. The only thing I can do is try harder to follow a good piece of very old advice and treat others kindly. I know I won’t always make the right choices so I will have to rely on someone else to forgive me but I can’t expect them to forget the way in which I have hurt them. All of us will make mistakes, how we handle our own mistakes and those of others may define who we are and how happy we want to be. When it comes down to it, don’t most of us want to become better people, if not for someone else, at least for ourselves?

*d*

More Children After the Disabled Child: Is It a Good Choice?

~ crossroadtrippers ~ 1 Comment

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When my husband and I found out that we were expecting our third child, we were very excited. One of the joys of expecting a child is sharing the news with friends and family. Unfortunately, instead of hugs and congratulations, we received critism and half-hearted blessings. It was disheartening. By the time I shared the news with my co-workers, I was in tears. This baby was making his or her way into the world and we felt very alone in our joy. The scarce number of people who were sincerely happy for us was not enough to extinguish the guilt and sorrow we were beginning to feel. It was not what I wanted or expected when announcing a pregnancy. My husband and I may have took the hard road to find each other but we had a strong marriage, probably because of it.  We had problems concieving our first child but were eventually blessed with two boys. We also worked hard to care for our family. The doubt about our third pregnancy was surrounding our disabled son. We were met with questions and disappointment as if we never considered what it meant to bring another child into the world while navigating the issues related to raising our disabled son. We were treated like the pregnancy was completely unplanned and the decision to expand our family was rash. I will never forget how the reaction put a dark cloud over my excitement.

Our disabled son was two when we conceived our third child. I was told by my doctor that we should consider having another child if it was something we may want to do in the future. I had health issues that could possibly halt a chance to get pregnant again. When faced with this information, we considered all of our options. Yes, raising a disabled child had it’s difficulties but we had decided that we wanted him to be a big brother, even before his diagnosis. We also weighed the risks and benefits to having an infant in the home. We knew we had to be careful allowing him around a baby because he didn’t fully understand how to be gentle and boundaries were something he was struggling to understand. We knew his health issues took our time and resources. We also knew the mutual benefit of having another child in our home would be for our disabled son and another child. I realized with some sorrow that a new child would most likely surpass his cognitive abilities but with that would be a chance for him to have a playmate close to his cognitive level. After discussing and weighing these risks, benefits, and more, we carefully made our decisions based on what we desired for our family. Neither of us wanted to let his disease also take away the joy of expanding our family. It had already taken so much. We didn’t want him to grow up knowing he was the reason we never had more children. How did we know he would not enjoy the company of another sibling? We didn’t. We decided  another little person would join our sometimes crazy, chaotic family and we trusted in something bigger than ourselves to help us if it became difficult. We had to ignore the nay-sayers and be happy about the decision we had made because it was best for us. I wish we would have felt supported in our decision. Instead, we were explaining why we came to this conclusion to people who really had no true understanding of our family. We felt like we were two teenagers trying to explain our unexpected pregnancy instead of a married couple announcing a joyful pregnancy. In hindsight, no one would have got the lengthy explanation we were giving, we would have asked for the respect and support we needed. We would have to let time prove we were strong enough for the challenge.

It’s three years later and we have no doubt that we made the best decison. We were also surprised with a fourth child. We had decided to stop at three and elected to have  surgery to help with my health issues. It was a week before my scheduled surgery date when our youngest daughter snuck in under the radar. We were met with the same skepticism by the same people. Yet another announcement was shrouded in gloom due to the lack of understanding. Most people waited for our reaction because they knew another baby would take more time and resources. My husband and I were once again elated to have the opportunity to bring another life into the world.  I think some people would rather try to be a voice of reason than that of support and it’s sad. Sometimes it’s needed but not in a situation such as this. No good was going to come from criticism. No matter what, the baby would arrive in several months. Sharing doubt and disappointment would only make the critics feel better about themselves. It didn’t do anything but snuff the joy out of our announcement. I would hate for anyone else to feel the way we did.

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I wrote this post because the question of having more children after a disabled child comes up in support pages often. I wanted to offer my advice and share our experience. My husband and I knew we had a strong marriage and we supported one another. We knew if no one else supported us, we were okay with our choices. We did what was right for us. We knew our son’s weaknesses and we knew bringing another child into our family was within our capability and within his capability to learn how to interact with another sibling. Our oldest daughter is now his best friend, she tells us often. She sets up his play bowling set in the hallway over and over because she knows he can’t do it himself. Sometimes he yells at her or gets aggravated but she keeps helping. They are mutually learning something from each other. She is learning tolerance and he gets a chance to socialize. My disabled son has just as much to teach us as we have to teach him. He is teaching my typical children that friendship isn’t based on ability or disability. Friendship is time spent together and learning to love differences. They look forward to doing something they enjoy together, like playing pretend bowling. I can only hope his life with us will effect our typical children in a positive way. Maybe they will choose to play with the ignored child at school that reminds them of their brother or they will stand up for intolerance because they have already been taught to meet disability with understanding. I am sad no one else could see what my husband and I did three years ago. It is sad that I will always think of the disappointment others shared instead of joy when we found out my beautiful daughters were going to be a part of our family. I have forgiven but it isn’t easily forgotten (a subject of my next post). If we had decided to stop having children, that decision would have also been made with love. We would have appreciated the same support and understanding with either decision. Being blessed with a special needs child also means taking extra care with decisions for our future. We did consider both paths before making our decision and we respect anyone who faces the same.

If you are reading this and are on the outside watching a family with a disabled child decide whether or not to welcome a new family member, be supportive. Offer an opinion only if you know the situation is dire or if the family asks your opinion. If you are a family member or friend of a strong family who decides having a baby is a good choice for them, don’t be the gray cloud lingering over the parent’s joy. Chances are, that disabled boy or girl will be a pretty awesome big brother or sister and those babies you aren’t sure about will grow up to be tolerant and loving children because of those special circumstances. There is a lot of love in a big family, especially in a big, special needs family. If you have been told that having another child is not the best choice for a special needs family, offer the same amount of support and understanding. Be a comfort if needed. Sometimes deciding to stop having children is a difficult choice and if circumstances were different, the family would love to grow their family. These parents have plenty of variables that weighed in on a their choice. It may not be the choice they envisioned but it is the best choice for them and their special needs child.

In the end, there is no cookie cutter decision that suits every family. There will always be strong opinions on the subject but families have to decide what is best for them. Bringing a child into the world after a special needs child can have good and bad points but it is a choice parents need to consider carefully. Chances are, if another child is announced in joy or a decision has been made to stop having children, they have thought about all the possibilities and it’s best to share in the joy and/or offer your support and leave the criticism for another subject.

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Reply by ~L~

I know I am guilty of the knee-jerk negative reaction and I know that you know that I apologized because after I thought about it,  knew I’d hurt your feelings with my thoughtlessness. Not all people are willing to see something from someone else’s perspective but I always try to make sure I at least give it a shot. I didn’t immediately realize that I wasn’t considering it from your angle.

And you couldn’t be more right about the benefits and I know you would never need a lecture about the hardships of adding another child to a special needs family. If everyone had a disabled sibling to grow up with, the world would probably be an exponentially better place instead of the judgmental, intolerant place it can often be.

Your kids are loved immensely, taught well, and being brought up in such a way that they will be good human beings. To me, that’s what really matters.