Back in 2014 I had this momentum of blog posts based on my three sons. Not the show, the three mystical creatures that I live with. It has been over two and a half years since my last blog post primarily due to the most arduous challenge of my life, aka my third child. Reflecting on my last few posts I was mainly in a stage of life that consisted of constantly picking up couch cushions, ducking while things were flying through the air, playing marble runs, stopping Benjamin from rewiring some socket, playing endless battles of war games with Jonathan and cuddling my sweet Andrew. Yep I had this down. I had successful gotten my Benjamin to kindergarten and was in a good routine. Yep I knew what I was doing with kids, with life, and with boys. I have always been transparent in life and really if I tried to even emit that pretense of having it all together (what is that anyway) it would quickly be unmasked by someone doing something somewhere, so why pretend? I love my boys. I honestly love their shenanigans. In my line of work it is a joy when kids get to be kids and they are never boring. Kids can say just what they want without pretense, with full honesty and passion. That is why I love working with kids.
Life shifted from the carefree days of play and mischief in late 2014. I had noticed that Andrew wasn't meeting his milestones and with a visit to the pediatrician and an evaluation from the regional center his deficits were confirmed. We had a host of well wishers assuring us not to worry. I did.
If there was a certification for being a klutz it belonged to Andrew. I have to say the apple didn't fall from the tree but that is another post. The physical therapist evaluated him and stated "he is a klutz and huge". Through many more evaluations, pediatrician visits, a hospitalization we eventually found ourselves in 7 hours of many types of therapy a week. I felt guilty. I was very angry with God. I didn't know how to fix this. I lost all my confidence. I became a helicopter parent. I am a top notch certified pediatric nurse that couldn't help my child. I found that I am stubborn and a control freak (I thought I was the relaxed type...yes maybe self reflection would have been a good thing). I felt guilty again because I know what really sick children look like and it wasn't THAT bad. I withdrew from all of my friends. I was assured it was nothing yet blamed for not noticing the "obvious" all at the same time. I stopped blogging and sharing my life with people.
Fast forward to 2017 and I am still picking up couch cushions, dodging things flying through the air, playing soldiers, playing marble runs, stopping Benjamin from rewiring some socket, cuddling my sweet yet tenacious Andrew (when he lets me), going to speech and occupational therapy sessions and am getting ready for some biopsies for Andrew next week. Really it seems like nothing has changed, but yet everything has. I am out of the baby stage at last although my son did announce at Easter "isn't it amazing that my mom looks pregnant, but she isn't".
