I found this on Facebook yesterday. I fell in love with the words. They describe my life perfectly.
I've never been one of those people who knew from a very early age what they wanted to be. My dreams for the future were always like waves on a beach, they constantly changed; sometimes they were calm and thoughtful, while at other times they raged with white passion and rushed head long at the shore line claiming everything in their path. I envied people that appeared to have such a focused determination and never swayed from their chosen path. Why couldn't I be like that?
One of my difficulties was that I enjoyed, and had a knack for, so many different things. Life was like a buffet of experiences and I wanted to eat as much of it as I could. Sometimes it might only be a nibble, but now and then I'd find something that tasted so good I just had to have a double helping. Eventually though, I'd tire of that dish and would begin looking for a new interest to satisfy my hunger.
I've always jokingly called myself 'a jack of all trades, but a master of none'. I've come close to being pretty good at a few things, but I've never focused on anyone of them for too long to be great. It is frustrating. Why was I given these abilities, but not be able to really do anything with them? I wanted my life to count for something!
Then I had kids. I am not going to lie and say that once I did I had an epiphany and everything fell into place. In fact, it was almost the opposite of that. I was never what you would call maternal and although I never not wanted children, I wasn't in any hurry to experience them either. In my early twenties, co-workers on maternity leave would visit the office and while everyone 'oohed' and 'aahed' and made silly gurgling noises at the pink blob in it's stroller, I would dash off to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Yes, I was hiding. I never changed a nappy until my daughter was born. I was thirty six years old.
When my daughter, Zoe, was born four weeks early. It was a complicated birth - she got stuck and required an emergency C-section. I was not able to hold her straight away and she had to spend the next two weeks in hospital. So there I was, a 'non-maternal' older new mum and at the first hurdle, I was already crashing. Ten months later I was in the suffocating clutches of post-natal depression.
Depression is like a slow fog that creeps slowly around you. At first, it keeps its distance, but little by little it inches it's way closer and then one day you are completely enveloped and unable to move. It is oppressive and thick, like the air before a really bad thunderstorm when the sky is full of heavy black clouds pressing down. When I reached the stage that I would keep the blinds closed during the day and I could not even face going out to the washing line to hang clothes (instead I would put them in the dryer), I knew that I needed help.
I've never been one of those people who knew from a very early age what they wanted to be. My dreams for the future were always like waves on a beach, they constantly changed; sometimes they were calm and thoughtful, while at other times they raged with white passion and rushed head long at the shore line claiming everything in their path. I envied people that appeared to have such a focused determination and never swayed from their chosen path. Why couldn't I be like that?
One of my difficulties was that I enjoyed, and had a knack for, so many different things. Life was like a buffet of experiences and I wanted to eat as much of it as I could. Sometimes it might only be a nibble, but now and then I'd find something that tasted so good I just had to have a double helping. Eventually though, I'd tire of that dish and would begin looking for a new interest to satisfy my hunger.
I've always jokingly called myself 'a jack of all trades, but a master of none'. I've come close to being pretty good at a few things, but I've never focused on anyone of them for too long to be great. It is frustrating. Why was I given these abilities, but not be able to really do anything with them? I wanted my life to count for something!
Then I had kids. I am not going to lie and say that once I did I had an epiphany and everything fell into place. In fact, it was almost the opposite of that. I was never what you would call maternal and although I never not wanted children, I wasn't in any hurry to experience them either. In my early twenties, co-workers on maternity leave would visit the office and while everyone 'oohed' and 'aahed' and made silly gurgling noises at the pink blob in it's stroller, I would dash off to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Yes, I was hiding. I never changed a nappy until my daughter was born. I was thirty six years old.
When my daughter, Zoe, was born four weeks early. It was a complicated birth - she got stuck and required an emergency C-section. I was not able to hold her straight away and she had to spend the next two weeks in hospital. So there I was, a 'non-maternal' older new mum and at the first hurdle, I was already crashing. Ten months later I was in the suffocating clutches of post-natal depression.
Depression is like a slow fog that creeps slowly around you. At first, it keeps its distance, but little by little it inches it's way closer and then one day you are completely enveloped and unable to move. It is oppressive and thick, like the air before a really bad thunderstorm when the sky is full of heavy black clouds pressing down. When I reached the stage that I would keep the blinds closed during the day and I could not even face going out to the washing line to hang clothes (instead I would put them in the dryer), I knew that I needed help.
That was the beginning of 'un-becoming' the person I was. It has taken almost nine years to get to where I am today, but it took another game changer to make me realise what my journey was really for. That game changer was my son, Sam.
If you have been following my bog, then you will already know quite a bit about Sam. For those that are joining the Bumpy Road Way at this point, Sam has 22Q 11.2 Deletion Syndrome. A very common, but little known genetic syndrome that can affect almost every system in the body. Every 22Q hero has a different story. Sam has severe speech and language delays as well as gross and fine motor skill issues. We have been on this journey since he was about eighteen months old (he is now almost seven), but it was in late 2012 that we received the diagnosis of 22Q. Since then we have faced many challenges, but our biggest was when Sam began school last year. Sam is a gorgeous, happy and engaging little boy and somehow manages to win the hearts of just about everyone he meets. He was popular with his peers and teachers at school, but despite our best efforts, he struggled as the year progressed and when he had a long bout of illness in the middle of the year, his anxiety levels sky rocketed and he just could not cope. I made the difficult decision to take him out of main stream school and home school him.
This is where my 'unbecoming' journey and the realisation of 'what you were meant to be' collided. Everything I had done in my life, all those experiences, my talents, it all suddenly made sense. I was supposed to be there for Sam. To learn how he learns. To use my ability to think outside the box and find ways to engage him. To help him begin his journey and achieve his potential. He has made me a better person and a better mother.
Having said all that, I am in no way Mary Poppins and Carol Brady rolled into one. I still detest house work, my laundry pile is forever over flowing, my garden has been taken over by weeds and both the kids drive me dotty at times.... but, I wouldn't change them for anything.
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| Zoe and Sam |
Thank you to 'Butterflies and Pebbles' for your inspiring words https://www.facebook.com/sc.louriesbutterfliesandpebbles
Beautifully written, Clare. I don't tend to leave many comments on posts but the first part describes my life perfectly. I haven't been presented with the same challenges you have (not yet anyway) but I cannot help but admire the commitment and determination you have shown in ensuring the absolute best for Sam.
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