Chocolate Chip Cookies
So I've been absent lately...not just from blogging, but from a few areas of life. For the first time in a long time, I've been ready to sit down and explain the new phase of this journey with confidence.
I'm not sure what caused the change. So many thoughts come to mind- situations, the holidays and the 5th anniversary of Diagnosis Day, my lack of patients for my job, more time than ever to "think" as I have played catch-up on projects that have demanded attention over the years.
But one comment continues to replay in my mind, and not sure if it was the initiator, but it was definitely a contributor...
I was talking with an acquaintance who knew Hunter in preschool and has watched him grow over the past couple of years. We were having a somewhat normal conversation, and the topic turned to Hunter.
"So, do you think one day he will be able to function on his own?"
Such a blow to my mommy heart, to my warrior heart, to my everything as far as recovery was concerned.
Besides wanting to punch her, a wave of emotions washed over me as I realized that it wasn't an ill-intended question in any nature. This kind soul was truly asking and concerned for his future.
The anger directed towards the questioner truly stemmed from the vulnerability and fear I felt when someone reminded me that no, we are NOT recovered. We are NOT where I thought we would be at this point.
It didn't help when we met with Hunter's big doctor, as I previously blogged about, and he told me that the next two years were crunch time and the most important years prior to him entering tweens. I felt this overbearing pressure that took me deep into a funk...one that seemed dark and dreary, and his decline following IVIG #19 didn't assist in calming my nerves.
How could I get up the strength to find new therapies, new methods, new supplements to get us to the place that we had prayed for over the past 6 years? How, when it seems we have tried it all, could I find the "cure" that we needed? I started to fall into the same patterns from the early diagnosis days, when research became a fixation, and happiness was replaced with sadness.
Today, a friend reminded me that the moments of life are precious and our days are numbered. God knows our purpose, our future, and no matter how hard I attempt to change His plan, I can't change our fate.
So the question remains: What happens if He doesn't??
What happens if He doesn't listen to my prayers?
What happens if He doesn't will a full recovery?
What happens if He doesn't provide us with a clear picture of this road ahead?
NOTHING.
Nothing happens.
We continue to live our lives the way we did before...hoping, praying, and finding the strength to battle the hard days and enjoy the ups....for there are some people only experience the downs, as my wise friend said. They don't know the unexplainable, unbelievable ups that we have been fortunate to witness.
Today, with this purposeful reminder to live out each day and create memories instead of misery, I chucked my to-do list. After work, I went to the store and bought supplies to make chocolate chip cookies. I messed up my kitchen, flour everywhere, goodness of sugar and chips all over the counter...
I realized through prayer, meditation, whatever you call it...that if these precious moments are numbered, I want my children to remember the mom I used to be. The one who made treats, made crafts, made fun for all those around- and didn't spend hours researching the latest Autism treatments.
I grew up in a family of 5 children- my mother used to make homemade dinners every single night. She spent her energy feeding and caring for all of us- and although my memories of childhood have been clouded over the years as my mind was consumed with a fight for my own child- I remember her homemade chocolate chip cookies. Oh, how we would race to the kitchen after school and eat as many cookies as we could before they were gone. My grandmother's homemade treats had the same appeal, and I can't believe how we would eat an entire coffee container of cookies in one sitting.
So instead of completing my notes and working on my tax documents, I saved that for after bedtime tonight. And I made them chocolate chip cookies. I weeded the garden, and today, new life is all around. Flowers blooming everywhere.
It's time to get back to enjoying this thing we call life.
Build the memories.
And throw a little sugar in there to make them just a little sweeter.
I'm not sure what caused the change. So many thoughts come to mind- situations, the holidays and the 5th anniversary of Diagnosis Day, my lack of patients for my job, more time than ever to "think" as I have played catch-up on projects that have demanded attention over the years.
But one comment continues to replay in my mind, and not sure if it was the initiator, but it was definitely a contributor...
I was talking with an acquaintance who knew Hunter in preschool and has watched him grow over the past couple of years. We were having a somewhat normal conversation, and the topic turned to Hunter.
"So, do you think one day he will be able to function on his own?"
Such a blow to my mommy heart, to my warrior heart, to my everything as far as recovery was concerned.
Besides wanting to punch her, a wave of emotions washed over me as I realized that it wasn't an ill-intended question in any nature. This kind soul was truly asking and concerned for his future.
The anger directed towards the questioner truly stemmed from the vulnerability and fear I felt when someone reminded me that no, we are NOT recovered. We are NOT where I thought we would be at this point.
It didn't help when we met with Hunter's big doctor, as I previously blogged about, and he told me that the next two years were crunch time and the most important years prior to him entering tweens. I felt this overbearing pressure that took me deep into a funk...one that seemed dark and dreary, and his decline following IVIG #19 didn't assist in calming my nerves.
How could I get up the strength to find new therapies, new methods, new supplements to get us to the place that we had prayed for over the past 6 years? How, when it seems we have tried it all, could I find the "cure" that we needed? I started to fall into the same patterns from the early diagnosis days, when research became a fixation, and happiness was replaced with sadness.
Today, a friend reminded me that the moments of life are precious and our days are numbered. God knows our purpose, our future, and no matter how hard I attempt to change His plan, I can't change our fate.
So the question remains: What happens if He doesn't??
What happens if He doesn't listen to my prayers?
What happens if He doesn't will a full recovery?
What happens if He doesn't provide us with a clear picture of this road ahead?
NOTHING.
Nothing happens.
We continue to live our lives the way we did before...hoping, praying, and finding the strength to battle the hard days and enjoy the ups....for there are some people only experience the downs, as my wise friend said. They don't know the unexplainable, unbelievable ups that we have been fortunate to witness.
Today, with this purposeful reminder to live out each day and create memories instead of misery, I chucked my to-do list. After work, I went to the store and bought supplies to make chocolate chip cookies. I messed up my kitchen, flour everywhere, goodness of sugar and chips all over the counter...
I realized through prayer, meditation, whatever you call it...that if these precious moments are numbered, I want my children to remember the mom I used to be. The one who made treats, made crafts, made fun for all those around- and didn't spend hours researching the latest Autism treatments.
I grew up in a family of 5 children- my mother used to make homemade dinners every single night. She spent her energy feeding and caring for all of us- and although my memories of childhood have been clouded over the years as my mind was consumed with a fight for my own child- I remember her homemade chocolate chip cookies. Oh, how we would race to the kitchen after school and eat as many cookies as we could before they were gone. My grandmother's homemade treats had the same appeal, and I can't believe how we would eat an entire coffee container of cookies in one sitting.
So instead of completing my notes and working on my tax documents, I saved that for after bedtime tonight. And I made them chocolate chip cookies. I weeded the garden, and today, new life is all around. Flowers blooming everywhere.
It's time to get back to enjoying this thing we call life.
Build the memories.
And throw a little sugar in there to make them just a little sweeter.
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