Promises
I made a promise to myself a long time ago. I would fill my life with happiness and make others happy to the best of my ability. I have always been a people pleaser. A good friend in high school told me to "get a back bone," because I would have been walked over easily (the words hurt at the time, but we laugh now at what an important message that was!).
When Paige was born at 32 weeks, I was an emotional wreck...I was in the NICU, watching her curled up in an incubator, fighting for her life. A nurse was handling her so rough and seemed annoyed by our questions, and gave us little respect and concern. When I got back to my lonely hospital room, I put a sign on the door for "no visitors" and cried my eyes out. My day nurse knocked and came in, and quickly consoled me and gave me the best advice I would ever receive as a new parent. "You are the only true advocate for your child." With that, I called the NICU and requested a nurse transfer.
And my wish was granted. I had to push away my people pleasing tendencies and do what was best for my child.
When Hunter was diagnosed, I made myself another promise. I vowed to fight for him and advocate for him to the utmost degree. I also told myself that I would fill his life with happiness, even when I felt like pulling my hair out or throwing my hands up in the air.
Everyday is not as easy as that sounds. I am not the perfect mother. I raise my voice and I lose my patience. When it is time to walk out the door and his shoes are still not on his feet, the Cars CD is going in and out of the DVD player, and he hasn't brushed his teeth yet, I repeat the directions for the umpteenth time in a louder, more assertive voice. Not the calming voice that he needs to reassure him that it will be a great day at school, in a new environment, and amidst all of the change...I quickly take a deep breath, count to ten, and try again.
Promises are meant to be kept. Strangely enough, when the world seems to be tipped upside down, a comment or a smile, or a "Mommy, your dress looks so pretty" comes out of his mouth and the fatigue, frustration, and anxiety tend to slip away.
Think about the first time your newborn baby smiled at you...not the gassy, relief smile, but that true, "Mommy, I know who you are and you make me happy!" smile. It's kind of the same reaction parents of children on the spectrum get when their child actually reciprocates a conversation, or laughs at an appropriate joke, or simply runs up to you and hugs you so tight your arms hurt.
As an advocate for your child, you promise to do what is best for them. Innocent children do not fully understand the depth and the thought that goes into day to day events that we as parents decide. Every morning we must awake with a new sense of assurance that today will be a great day, a day to make an impact on our children.
We can promise according to our aspirations, and not perform according to our fears. (based on a quote by Francois duc de la Rochefoucauld)
When Paige was born at 32 weeks, I was an emotional wreck...I was in the NICU, watching her curled up in an incubator, fighting for her life. A nurse was handling her so rough and seemed annoyed by our questions, and gave us little respect and concern. When I got back to my lonely hospital room, I put a sign on the door for "no visitors" and cried my eyes out. My day nurse knocked and came in, and quickly consoled me and gave me the best advice I would ever receive as a new parent. "You are the only true advocate for your child." With that, I called the NICU and requested a nurse transfer.
And my wish was granted. I had to push away my people pleasing tendencies and do what was best for my child.
When Hunter was diagnosed, I made myself another promise. I vowed to fight for him and advocate for him to the utmost degree. I also told myself that I would fill his life with happiness, even when I felt like pulling my hair out or throwing my hands up in the air.
Everyday is not as easy as that sounds. I am not the perfect mother. I raise my voice and I lose my patience. When it is time to walk out the door and his shoes are still not on his feet, the Cars CD is going in and out of the DVD player, and he hasn't brushed his teeth yet, I repeat the directions for the umpteenth time in a louder, more assertive voice. Not the calming voice that he needs to reassure him that it will be a great day at school, in a new environment, and amidst all of the change...I quickly take a deep breath, count to ten, and try again.
Promises are meant to be kept. Strangely enough, when the world seems to be tipped upside down, a comment or a smile, or a "Mommy, your dress looks so pretty" comes out of his mouth and the fatigue, frustration, and anxiety tend to slip away.
Think about the first time your newborn baby smiled at you...not the gassy, relief smile, but that true, "Mommy, I know who you are and you make me happy!" smile. It's kind of the same reaction parents of children on the spectrum get when their child actually reciprocates a conversation, or laughs at an appropriate joke, or simply runs up to you and hugs you so tight your arms hurt.
As an advocate for your child, you promise to do what is best for them. Innocent children do not fully understand the depth and the thought that goes into day to day events that we as parents decide. Every morning we must awake with a new sense of assurance that today will be a great day, a day to make an impact on our children.
We can promise according to our aspirations, and not perform according to our fears. (based on a quote by Francois duc de la Rochefoucauld)
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