I have done some things on this trip in my hotel room that I have never done before while in a hotel room. “Whooh, Heidi, TMI!” you say, but NO, THAT is not what I’m talking about. I am talking about something much tamer: I have laid on the bedspread. I know! Wild and crazy! I don’t ever do that because of lovely 20/20 investigates. Darn that show and the way they make me a germophob!
Another thing that I have never done: sitting down in the shower and letting my leg lean against the bacteria-infested shower curtain as I cried and cried like I haven’t done in a long while. Ooooooooo! Buzz killer, I went from humorous to sad like that! (snapping my finger).
But I did- cry like a baby. Reality hurts. I have been living in denial, my friends, I confess to you. I seem like I’m doing well with all things Summit so you all will think I’m ok and just not talk to me about it or ask questions. It’s like a safety buffer. I’m holding people at bay because I don’t want to admit what it true. It’s easy to look like I am working out things on here, but deep inside, I guess I haven’t. I pre-empt painful questions by saying how behind he is on my own FIRST. I CONTROL it. I really still have been thinking that when he gets his eye surgery that everything will be ok and there will be no need for diagnosing his genetics stuff because it’ll be obvious to everyone that he is NORMAL. But he’s not. I feel the beginnings of tears prick at my eyes even though I thought I was done.
There is a pediatrician that works with special needs kids that is attending the conference and we sat at her table tonight. The discussion turned to Summit. When I cavilarily said that when he had his eye surgery I thought he’d be fine she rattled off a few quick land marks like: “Most kids say “Ma ma ma” “Da da da” at the age of” -I interuped her, “He says all those things” Sigh of relief. – “when they are 8 months old” she fisished. She said by the time that babies are Summit’s age they should know a bunch more words. She said to call my pediatricial at once to get him into speech therapy because it helps his brain develope better. His hearing may be bad, that is a sign when they are late talking. She said a host of other things that I won’t take the time to go into because this blog will be long enough. She meant well, I ASKED. I’m not mad at her. The TRUTH hurts. Reality BITES. Those expressions aren’t around for the heck of it.
I wish that maturation could come without pain. Even physically, I remember having bad growing pains as a pre-teen and anyone that says you can have a child without pain is just crazy! Or had too much drugs. The post-baby lack of sleep is painful too, for that matter. Having a child matures you in ways that you didn’t know was possible. It points out how selfish you really are. Then the real tough times come.
It’s funny how much problems can mature you, unknowingly too. Just from you reading my blog you KNOW that I’m silly and still need maturity in so many areas so this blog isn’t a pat-on-my-back one, I’m just … blogging. In this new world of blogging there should be a word for “thinking out loud” when writing.
Today our speaker talked how he has a child with cerebral palsy that only was born with 1/2 of her left brain. 1/2. The other half was water or something. She was never going to be able to talk, walk, and each year would get tougher as she got bigger and more spastic. At one point in her life she was declared brain dead in the hospital following a traumatic seizure. She is now working in a bookstore here in Colorado Springs, on her two feet, not in a wheelchair. Before that she was a speech writer for the President of the United States. SERIOUSLY?! I saw her taking notes as her dad talked, and talking with her you’d think she has a little something wrong with her, but not much. God doesn’t just slightly answer some prayers, he goes all out sometimes. He can.
I thank God that Summit’s problems are as minor as they are. I will not focus or dread his coming genetics appointment because it doesn’t matter what they say. Summit is a joy to me and to others and has been a perfect baby this whole time. I’ve thanked him for exceeding all my expectations, but reminded him I’d love him if he was the bane of everyone’s existence here. He impresses everyone with his charm and eagerness to meet and go to new people. I wouldn’t trade anything about him. Not even for what the world deems as “normal”. He is more than I deserve. Isn’t that how God works? He gives us more than we DESERVE. How inadequate is the word Thanks? But all the same, Thank you Father, for so much of what I don’t deserve.