The longer I am engaged in this moment the harder it becomes for me to breathe. I never understood that feeling of complete despair and utter despondency until I truly began to absorb what these events in my life could all mean.
I feel guilty for who I was in my past because I worry if it has a hand in defining in what is happening now. The divide between me and my husband grows further with every hour our child refuses to sleep. I wonder what it is like for “normal” parents with children who listen. I am growing tired of listening to how my sons hopes that I would die. Sure he is 4 and has no comprehension of those words but I do. It gets harder to hear when his father begins to utter words that are the same. Of course I get angry and rage seethes within me. Don’t they know that I am only human and not a Goddess here in their world. To maintain control in these dire circumstances just reinforces the idea that I am insane. Maybe I didn’t wake from giving birth? That would explain all these happenings and how they came to be.
I remember a time when we were happy or at least we had pretended to be and that is how it worked. When the fissures began, they took over and our over all foundation became weak. Sure there were fibs such as smoking and where he goes when he does out. The smoking is just a real big irritant and his where about’s, well I just try not to care. It gets hard though when our 4 year old lunges for my throat. To my husband who thinks I shouldn’t share this nightmare I have no way to get this sheer terror out. All my hopes and dreams come crashing around my feet. He is not different or weird or strange. Not at all. This little guy is my complete mini me. I get it. I understand. Wherever he was before this he didn’t want to get ripped away. I think the same way in it’s entirety. Too scared of sleep because there is the uneasiness of not knowing where you are going or even worse when you wake who you will be. Will all those feelings finally come into fruition one day or will I open my eyes and they will finally be at bay?
Trying to imagine the inner workings of a little brain ripped from a womb 2 months too soon can drive you insane. One minute you were doing as you always done then you were welcomed into a brightly, lite room. So much noise and clamour as they whisked you away. Screaming as your mom lay dying, oh how are you to trust those that met your existence with such a nervous panic and fever? Where once you lived with family you now lay alone in a dark room hooked up to wires and the sounds of monitors beeping. That woman’s voice you came to know you can no longer here. Just the bustling of strangers around you who stop to gawk and take your vitals and tell the rest of the world how you need to be. The start of his life was always he needs to be a certain way. He needs to 5 pounds, eating this much, oh and he needs to remember how to breathe. Even in those dire moments sitting next to my son waiting for the monitors to go off I was alone. The nurses who came to check in were taking notes to use against me, in the end we signed documents saying we were taking him home. My mistake at 3 am as the monitors were going off was crying, communicating to the nurse how scared I was. That moment was used against me on the day of his discharge citing I was not of sound mind to be a good mother. That was our beginnings. This is our now.
Our now has it so this little boy never sleeps and he is always unsettled. The joy he used to experience in the first few years of his life have now been taking away. Seems odd doesn’t it. He used to smile and hug me and overall be my best friend. We went everywhere together. Where one was the other was sure to follow now all he wants to sit there and vibrate and I am at my wits end of what to do. Too scared to reach out because I know what will be done. You are unfit and unwell, in fact you are medicated. I hear these words almost every other day from my husband. Yes we fit. Like cats and dogs almost every day. Did that damage our son in the end? It is truly almost impossible to say. Outside variable shouldn’t have an impact when it comes to our finite make-up of our son. Yes experiences will help define his character but they can only enhance what has been there already. You can’t force somebody to be anything that they aren’t. Just like I would never try to define my son as ever being “normal”. I never wanted a son who would turn complacent and just accept merely fitting in. I always wanted him to light up the sky like an enigma. I just never dreamed he would be destined to do so kicking and screaming.
I have to be fierce and teach him it is ok to stand out. That it is ok to not be accepted by everybody because only you know what lays inside and how it feels when you are being left out. Excluded from being normal you accept the fact because you know you were born special. Born with the fists of furry beneath you never tiring just constantly feeling things out. The over active mind is a real special thing as it will always challenge your existence to live for a better day.