Parenting is hard work.
Even so, I usually adore every second of it, including the parts that require disciplinary action.
This part?
This part where I can't fix the broken pieces, the part where I can't trade places with them, the part where the pain cannot be eased by a kiss, the part where I don't have the cure and a sugary snack doesn't hold a sufficient distraction.
This part can go straight to hell.
This is the part of Motherhood that I would give up if I could.
Still no answers.
Just tests.
Just test results that are sitting on someone's desk.
Just nerve wracking agony of the unknown.
It's not comforting anymore.
I know too much.
God I just want to fix it.
Today, he was sick and in pain from the spinal tap. I rushed home. Part of the threads holding my strength together started to fray. I'm coming unglued. I don't know what to do. This fear is so heavy. I can't make it stop. His body is fighting itself and I can't fix it.
Why? WHY IS THIS HIS LIFE? WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO BE HIS REALITY?
Is this the beginning?
Is this the start of many terrifying moments?
I didn't sign on for this.
I signed on for the cereal box motherhood. I knew it was going to be hard. But this? No, I didn't. I didn't ask for Autism and Multiple Sclerosis. I didn't know this was even an option. I didn't know that this was a potential outcome.
No, I wouldn't trade a fraction of a second for any reason in the world.
But why did it have to get so fucking complicated?
And I thought that I hid it well. Then he points out that I am frantically cleaning the kitchen. He points out that it's because I'm a nervous wreck. He points it out. He does this because he knows. He is being the rock right now. I'm supposed to be the rock.
This rock is wearing down.
Just as they sent him to a sterile room with a sterile needle to go into his delicate spine - my phone rings. It's The Middle Son. Some little bitches are terrorizing him at school because he walks funny and wears weird clothes. And I can't rush to his side because I'm already at the side and I have to try to triage which kid I have to be there for and the same time in two places. And I want to knock the ever living fuck out of these assholes for picking on my boy and I want to cure the kid down the hall and I can't do both or either.
I didn't sign on for this.
