Sometimes I fall.
The reality of Cliff’s disability knocks me off my feet. Overwhelmed by all of the equipment. His cries because the braces he has to wear hurt him break my heart everyday. The hours and hours we spend doing different therapies each week begin to suck the fun out of life. The struggles I watch him go through on a daily basis. The simple tasks we take for granted everyday are so difficult for him to complete.
The fact the I can’t fix it.
The pain rushes over me. I can hardly breathe. Shear panic takes over. The flood gates open and tears slide down my cheeks then fall onto my lap.
(Cliff pulled to stand all by himself for the first time this week)
My heart breaks. Shatters into a million tiny pieces. Pieces so small they can never be put back together.
I go back to that moment standing over my little baby in the pediatrician’s office and the words “He has some spasticity. You know, Cerebral Palsy” slid out of her mouth. The diagnosis. Silence. Just seconds before I was singing songs and taking pictures of my perfect, sweet baby. I had no idea what “spasticity or Cerebral Palsy” meant. I couldn’t even ask. There were no words. The room was spinning around us. I looked deep into Cliff’s eyes like I had never looked into them before, he grinned and in that second our souls fused together. I could feel the connection between us and knew that I would do everything in my power to help Cliff. And looking back I realize that the love I had for him grew and strengthened in this moment. The unknown kicked me in the gut. I muttered “ok”. That was it. I gathered Cliff and all of his toys we had strewn across the examination table and we walked out into this huge world with a secret, a huge, scary secret.
In that second my life changed forever.
This always happens when everything is going “great.” When I don’t have to be strong and have my “game face” on. When I am relaxed and I let my guard down for just a moment too long. When I think I have my head around Cliff’s disability and his future.
I mourn not for what we “lost”, but for Cliff and all of the opportunities he will not have.
The questions begin to flood my mind. “Will Cliff fit in at school?, Will he go to College?, Will I have the right words and strength to answer when he asks ‘Why me? Why am I different? What caused me to be this way?’, Will Cliff get married and have a family of his own? Will he be able to drive?…”
Sometimes I cry for a few minutes. Sometimes I cry for what feels like a life time.
But it always ends the same.
I answer these questions with one word: “YES.”
I pick myself up off of the floor and begin to put the broken pieces of my heart back together.
(Cliff said “look Mom, no hands!” while playing with his cars at the coffee table this week – This is a tremendously huge accomplishment for him)
Then I am strong. Because I have to be. Not for me, but for Cliff.
So, I grab his little hand, look into those beautiful, trusting eyes, remember that commitment I made to my baby two years ago and we continue down that Road Full Of Promise.
Beautiful post! I feel like I was reading my thoughts exactly just written by another hearta
Have you ever read Welcome to Holland http://www.our-kids.org/Archives/Holland.html It kind of sums it all up.
You captured all your emotions in such a beautiful way!! I am so proud of the mama you are to that amazing little boy!!
I am following you on google connect from "Boost My Blog Friday"! Cute blog;-)
http://www.mommyblessingsinsmallbundles.com/
http://meinanutshell1979.blogspot.com/
http://mommyblessingsinpictures.blogspot.com/
Jeanette Huston
Natalie, you just brought tears to my eyes. Your words are so tender and wrenching and full of love. Cliff looks like the sweetest little boy.
Honey, he'll be fine. It won't be all great. It won't be at all easy. But this kid has something BIG going on – he trusts you, you love him, you are with him all the way. He'll make it. Some day, some how, he will reach all this big life changing achievements. And even more than "normal"(pardon my french) kids – because all his moves are life changing achievements for him, and for all who watch him. Including me. In the Netherlands. Who would have guessed this beautiful child could take such big steps, all over the world, right into the hearts of many? Bless him!!
My heart breaks for you and your little boy and at the same time I admire you so much. Thank you for letting us see through your eyes.
Thank You ALL for your kind words and support! It means so much to me and when I am having a down day, I read your sweet comments and emails to bring me back up! I am so blessed to have such amazing readers and wonderful support! Thank you!
This is the most beautiful thing I have ever read. What a precious bond. He (and you) always remain in our prayers.
I totally understand what you are feeling. When Jack was 6 months old, I was told that he would never roll over, was deaf/blind, had CP, etc. Now, he's 6. He's a kindergartener and climbs up the school bus stairs every weekday! He walks like a drunk man, but he walks! He can't see as well as most folks, but he sees!
I could go on and on about this topic. To sum it up, nobody knows what you boy can and can't do except God. Everyday that Jack makes progress, is a GREAT day. It's a long road, and not typical, but I couldn't imagine my life without his bright smile and sweet hugs.
All my best, and can't wait to get to know you.
http://www.thatredheadedstepchild.com
Look at him pull himself up and stand at the table! Yay, Cliff!
I wish I had something smart to say to you. My heart hurts for you.
he is absolutely beautiful and is going to have a wonderful life. So are you!
We all get weak at times. And as special needs mommies sometimes it more often than not. But I know what you mean about your souls fusing together forever. Me and my Ben are like that. And through all the uncertainty and pain, I would trade him for the world. http://www.our-kids.org/archives/Special_mother.html Read that when you get a chance. xo
[[[thanks, God. not sure how you got me to this site in this moment on this day. i thot the distraction from my sadness was the inspiration to paint my knife block. it took one casual click to discover inspiration to look past loss and celebrate life. Wow. thanks.protect this precious child and his mama. amen]]]