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Tales Of An Educated Debutante

on life, loss and the joy that rules the day.


 
 
 
 
 




 
The future is far away and scary, but today is lovely.

Adrian H. Wood, PhD


Grieving A Diagnosis

Grieving A Diagnosis

Friday, March 31, 2017 Adrian Wood Comments (6)

I had no idea it would feel like this, no relief, no weight lifted, just heavy debilitating grief amongst the real smiling and laughing that travels instinctively with a parcel of annoying children. Real life is messy and it doesn't take pause for any of us, not even mamas grieving a diagnosis for the little people they call their own. No amount of wishing can turn back the clock to life before. Had I known how easy I had it? Mothering is marked by a grand perspective of hindsight and to overcome it's hurt, one must be aware in the very moment of craziness and find something of which to be thankful.

I am thankful. I am thankful for a husband that loves and requires very little in return. I am thankful for parents that would give me the moon if I asked. I am thankful for siblings that love and adore and seem to take their mysterious brother in stride. I am the one that seems to struggle the most, maybe that's the job of mamas, maybe it's just me, an imperfect soul in a sea of millions. It's quite disconcerting to adore someone so much yet find yourself crying over their very personhood. What does that mean? To be sad and thankful simultaneously is perhaps the hardest road I have yet to walk.

Grief. I was held captive quite a very long time and I'm not going to let that happen this time. I don't quite no how to start, but I'm finding that tears come first. I hate crying, detest weakness, feel ashamed of mourning a son I love, but I must. I won't make the same mistake I did nearly 27 years ago. When that boy that I first adored most in the world drifted away that hot July morning, I chained my vault of emotions and discarded the key. Do you know how much I want to do that today? Every bit of my innermost heart says run away, as fast you can, smile and don't ever look back.

It doesn't have to be like that, a choice of either or. The beauty is in the ashes, but choosing to sift through is quite a hurdle and I promise I will follow a little boy named Amos and I will walk alongside him and navigate a new world and all things that make him so perfect. He is perfect, you know, far more than I. They think our son has autism, I think that's the right place to begin.

Comments
Anonymous commented on 31-Mar-2017 09:38 PM
Just continue to love. I can't tell you how much I miss my Kathy. A part of me is gone and I still don't know who I am. It has been four years and I still can't seem to find me. So just love him both the good and the bad. And love yourself for being his Mom.
Judy Dempsey
Carol S. commented on 01-Apr-2017 02:21 AM
Well his outfit is perfect and so is he. And so are you. I experienced a deep sorrow 1 month ago and my mantra is sad but grateful. You've said the same thing. It's working for me. Thank you for sharing.
Carol S. commented on 01-Apr-2017 09:04 AM
And this from today's Streams in the Desert...spoke to me, maybe to you too.
http://www.crosswalk.com/devotionals/desert/
Newsletter Signup commented on 01-Apr-2017 09:52 AM
Sending a big hug this morning, two hugs. Your little man is no less than the rest of us, he thinks on a different, higher level than the rest of us. And, most importantly he is loved no less by you and the rest of us.
Keep writing, it's good for you and the rest of us.
Mary Snow Crawley commented on 01-Apr-2017 11:25 AM
And you are teaching all your children how to be.loving, compassionate people. Amos is filled with an amazingly joyful spirit - remember, God knows every fiber of his being and has already made great plans for him. May God's grace continue to enfold you and your sweet precious family.
Anonymous commented on 04-Apr-2017 04:45 PM
Sometimes on this journey we know as life, we don't get to see the unveiled answers to our prayers until so much later . . . I guess that is the faith that lifts us up when we can't even find the strength to look up. Those answers will be incredible when they are revealed as I hear the echo of Jeremiah 29:11, "I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope . . . ." Love and prayers, always, Moi

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