Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

Dear Mom, the day I cried when my kettle died

It’s been a rough day with my youngest son who has the SPD (Sensory Processing Disoder) and impending evaluation for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). Transitions are very difficult for him so I made the mistake this morning by saying “let’s get dressed and go do something fun!” I didn’t use his PECS (Picture Example Communication), a visual tool I use so he can see that’s what we’re going to do. Life has been manageable so I just tried talking about it. Big mistake made there, let’s just add that to my ever growing list shall we?

He wouldn’t get dressed so I helped him. Then I got dressed while he undressed. So I sighed audibly and made breakfast. He refused to eat so I turned on the cartoons and went about my online to do list, running my Facebook page and co-admin four others. I carried on with my updates, checking messages, replying to comments, and I looked up to see my son eating. Well that’s one battle avoided. I decided I would get my breakfast and put on the kettle for tea.    

  
I ate, tidied up the kitchen, and went to make my tea. Then I realized my kettle died. All the stress of the morning came to a head and I cried. I burst into tears, and cried till my throat was raw and snot and tears were pouring down my face. I call that the ugly cry of no return. I lost track of how long I cried, my son found me on the floor huddled up into a ball in the fetal position. My Mom bought me that kettle, and it was last gift she ever gave me. It was a painful moment for me the day my kettle died. For a tea lover like me this is a very sad thing! It’s the last gift my Mom gave to me. And now she flies with the angels so I feel the insatiable desire to write about my pain….

  
 I felt so silly crying over a kettle but it’s the memories I have of her and that kettle. Drinking tea, laughing, loving, and sharing our hearts. I miss her so much, and microwave tea water sucks. I just want to sit with my Mom again and babble, banter, and sing like we used to. It doesn’t matter how old we get we just don’t stop needing our parents! Well I’m speaking for myself, but I’ll never forget the day my brother phoned me. He called my cell phone and asked me why I had answered it. I replied “it’s my phone, it rang, so I answered it.” Bitchtastic morning to you too! 

I may need to mention I’m not a morning person. He was trying to get ahold of my husband who he thought would have the phone. I knew my Mom was gone so I voiced it, and he said yes and assured me my husband was on his way home. What my brother didn’t know was that our Mom came to me in a dream. She reached for my hand and called me by the pet name she had for me, I reached back and woke up. Just in time to see her disappearing into the ethers as my phone rang. There I sat on the edge of my bed rubbing my very pregnant belly. I was eight months along, alone, and devastated. 

  
My husband arrived home and gathered me up in a hug while our oldest child slept through it all. I collapsed into my loves chest and soaked his shirt with my tears. I close my eyes now and see it all replaying like a movie in my head. How did I survive that trauma to my heart, psyche, and soul? I gave birth to my baby a month premature and had to keep living, loving, and raising my children. I don’t know if I survived it so to speak, I just didn’t have a choice. My family needed me to recover, to be me even if I was just a mere grieving shell of myself. As I get closer to Mother’s Day I try to remember that it’s important to put myself on my list of priorities. Taking back the me I once was is a gift to myself, and to my family. 

The only thing I would ask for this Mother’s Day would be the gift of time. Wrapped up in beautiful embossed paper I would find a journal and a beautiful pen to write my thoughts in. Recording those days that are so long with sensory meltdowns, those little conversations my son has with his toys about going to the zoo. Remembering how my oldest son used his problem solving skills, instead of screaming out his pain. A gift certificate to my favourite  restaurant where my husband and I could enjoy a date night with each other’s company. A note from a certified special needs caregiver who will stay and look after my children for a few hours of our lives.  

 

*Image found on Pinterest.*

 

 I would love a brand new kettle to make new memories with while sipping my tea and thinking of my Mom. Followed by a gift card to a gardening center to pick up a beautiful plant, soil, and Miracle Grow to plant in my old kettle. A wonderful idea shared by my heart sister friend The Brain. And lastly a box of Kleenex to dry my tears, blow my nose, and a bottle of wine to allow it all to sink in how very blessed I am. 

Happy Mother’s Day to you. ❤️

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Gamble

I’ve been living the life of a gambler. I’ve been running on empty for a long time thinking that I can continue this way. I’ve been going on whiffs of exhaustion and sleep deprivation. Reacting strongly with my emotions and easy trigger finger of blame. I have spent more time looking at a bottom of a wine bottle with only tears and rambling writings to show for it. I have spent nights in overwhelming valley and vacationed at heartbreak hotel. I’ve given my power away only to feel like a shell of my former self. 

I have decided enough is enough since my crazy train has run off the rails. I’m taking a gamble on myself and putting myself on my list of priorities. Self care will be my goal each and everyday. I will exercise to walk, run, move my body to feel good. I will get more rest, even if it’s not a lot of sleep. I will find a routine that works for me. I will have fun again as me not just Mom. Where I can laugh, love, find my hobbies that make me happy. I will be with others who share these common interests. I will begin to create again to draw, paint, scrapbook, and craft with my kids and on my own. Art is the way to my heart’s inspiration, love, and light. 

  
Eating well and maintaining a balanced diet of healthy foods will feed my body and nourish my mind. I will be kind to myself, by putting myself first, seeking guidance from my family and friends, and counselling from my therapist. I will get outside and explore my new town and surroundings. I will bask in the fresh air and the sunshine, and get my hands back in the dirt with my love of gardening. I will seek daily ways to relax, not just when the stress is choking me physically and emotionally. I will not gamble with my health and happiness again. I deserve to be fully, completely, safe and comfortable in my skin. 

 I will participate in my yoga practice, keeping mindful with my deep breathing and my temper. I will put my deepest thoughts that aren’t meant to be published in my journal. I will read to fill my mind with beautiful words, my heart with the longing to write my own words to inspire, and my soul with the love of making those chapters part of my being. And when the world is too much for me to handle I will sink into my loves arms and find my solace and believe in myself again. I vow to make my self care an integral part of me that it won’t be a chore, a list of demands to meet, it will be my gift to me. 

This has been my submission to More Than Cheese and Beer please check out her anonymous Sunday confessions and all the talent who link up. Thank you. ❤️

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

Inspiration from Starbucks 

  

My inspiration from Starbucks

 

This has been my submission to https://silverthreading.com. It’s amazing what some free time and a cup of chai will do! Please check out her wonderfulness and all the other talent who link up. Thank you.  💓

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Pull

I find I’m struggling with myself lately. I’m feeling this pull to my past. Where I felt really happy I had a great group of friends I saw daily. I didn’t feel lonely or shut in like I do now. I had my respite worker recently say I needed people. I know she was right, but that didn’t make me like less of a loser. I feel so pulled to my old life where I knew who I could call, count on, and have my back. Now I try to navigate a new town and new people feeling so unsure of myself. I’ve never had trouble making friends but I don’t know this time around I do.

I need to pull myself up by the bootstraps and just keep trying. Having children with special needs doesn’t always open the door to having friendships. I’m afraid of taking my son to a playgroup and he reacts to too much noise and stimulus. Or if he’s sensory seeking and he gets to aggressive with another child. The times I’ve gone I’ve sat on the edge of my seat drinking my tea, and waiting and watching. I find the pull of my friendships and lamenting that I haven’t found a group. I have a few friends and they lead very busy lives.

So I connect with them when it works with their schedules. I don’t complain, I don’t demand, but I do cry silently at night when everyone else is asleep. With that pull from my heart I have to decide if I’m going to stay stuck in my past, or push myself forward with my future. I’ve been attending a support group and its been helping. I’m hoping to connect and get to know some parents there as we walk the same path with our children. I find more and more each day I have to resist that pull and push myself towards my future.

With that push I’m hoping to gain some more confidence in myself. I have a dilemma with my online life colliding with my reality. Online I’m admired, respected, appreciated, and yes even loved. I’m told I’m beautiful, brilliant, talented, and yes even funny. In my reality I struggle with being social. I have children with special needs. I have to keep them calm, regulated, and comfortable in their surroundings. If I don’t there’s hell to pay. Not to many know my struggles. And honestly I don’t ask for pity just a kind word, an invitation, a smile or a hug.

I don’t ask to impose on people’s lives but maybe just maybe I shouldn’t have blogged about this. Because honestly reading it back makes me sound quite pathetic. I have hid in my online world that makes me feel whole. Today I chose to be brave and put it out here because this is, what is is. My online world meeting my reality, the whole ugly, beautiful, poignant truth of it. Written by me a lonely, heartbroken soul just looking for a friend to understand. I have to pull myself out of my self imposed depression. I’m starting with baby steps and going to attend a playgroup geared towards children with special needs.

I’ve been in denial that it’s what my son needed but no Mom is an island. And the potty training blues have gotten me down and I’ve been stuck inside the house for too long. So time to pull up my big girl sexy panties and get this social thing on the go. No one is an island we all need inhabitants to create some sort of bond, a family.

This has been my submission to Ash’s Sunday confession from http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Check out her brilliance, anonymous confessions, and all the other talent that link up. Thank you for reading my blog today.

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A Mother’s guilt

I’m at my wits end with my oldest son. He said he had a sore throat so I let him stay home from school. The rules are rest, rehydrate, and relax. He had helped clean up the basement so I allowed him a movie with his little brother. I’m upstairs cleaning, laundry, dishes and I go to check on him and he’s downstairs playing video games. I walk into the room and he’s pretending to be sleeping!!!! I told him get up and go to bed. He starts to argue that he was having quiet time because his little brother didn’t want to watch a movie.

So I sent him to bed and I continued folding laundry. Then I can hear him out of his room. I’m ready to lose it I’ve sent him to bed twice and he’s come back out. First he was playing hockey with the Mad dog so I said get to bed! He says I’m hungry; then get your food and get to bed!!!! So he says forget it I’ll just starve you don’t care! So then he’s there for 10 minutes and he comes back out again to ask his brother to go downstairs to watch a movie. Get the $@@% to bed now I bellow!!!!

What is wrong with my kid? He won’t listen, he doesn’t respect me, then he tells me he’s getting yelled at school by five people. And one is supposedly his teacher. Well I’ll be addressing this and I will be sending him to school tomorrow because if I don’t I might just duct tape his mouth shut!!!!!
I don’t know where I went wrong we used to be so close. Then I was so sick and sad when I was pregnant with his brother. I carry a lot guilt because my Mom died then I had my baby five weeks later.

Due to the premature birth he had to stay in the hospitals NICU. When I was finally realized after five days, I still went back and forth to the hospital to care for my baby. This is when I feel the disconnect happened. My son was grieving the loss of my Mom, me not being there, and then a little brother who was sick. What had happened in his little world was too much so he turned to his Dad as his saviour and protector. That’s when it all changed between us.

His attitude changed towards me and jealously set in because I was always with my baby. Even though he adored his baby brother. It didn’t matter how much that new love was blossoming and growing, he had lost a part of his Mom. I had to be strong, stoic, and a rock for my children. Meanwhile I was dying and falling apart into little broken, jagged pieces. My heart was shattered I lost my one and only one and I felt like a part of me had died too! Not something a four year boy could understand with his precious heart. So I put my grief on hold to deal with his.

I thought I was doing the right thing as I struggled with intense grief of my own, sleep deprivation, and adjusting to an anti depressant. I didn’t want to be that parent that checked out when my kids needed me the most. It was bound to happen, as I just felt like I was a medicated brain and a body barely able to function. I honestly don’t know how I got through that difficult time. Grief recovery, family, friends, my husband and the love of my sons all played a role.

Life within that little bubble of calm helped me exist. As my body and my brain began to connect as I adjusted to my medication. But my little boy changed as his brother grew up. He got more abrasive with me, his angry tantrums became longer, and I went into research mode. If I don’t understand something I will read until I do. I read books, listened to lectures, attending parenting workshops. In order to understand what had happened to my son. I wish I had looked more into neurology than maybe I could see the early signs of his brain changing.

The ADHD behaviours, dyspraxia, and Sensory Integration disorder were there. He was just so much like me sensitive with an explosive temper that I just saw pain, grief, and jealously. This is when the switch happened, and when I had to fill out recent questionnaires about these behaviours it was hard to hold back the tears. I cried for that little boy who lost his Grandma, Mom, and gained a baby brother. I cried for my lack of understanding, the turmoil, and stress that cyclones around me.

And most of all I cried for that broken relationship between a Mother and her first born. I pray I can repair it before it’s too late and I lose his love and kindness forever. That’s a Mother’s guilt always wearing my heart on the outside of my body. So here I am today parenting through the pain and loving myself and my family with everything I have. Praying for that change to patch my oldest son’s heart back together. That’s Motherhood both beautiful with the moments of cherished gazes and spoken words of I love you. And crushing defeat and frustrating when those words turn to you don’t care, you don’t love me. I put my eyes on the prize and slowly, but carefully walk that tightrope of love and hate for myself.

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

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This has been my submission to http://silverthreading.com. Please check out her creative gift and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 💓

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Always

I will always worry, even when someone says don’t worry about it. I don’t know why I’m like this, is it the way I grew up, or do I get some kind of pay off in the end? Tough questions to ask myself for sure, but in the questioning comes the truth. I come from a long line of worriers. My beloved Mom, Gram, and her sisters were all worriers. Then they raised a next generation of worry warts. I remember when I was kid and I’d hear a family member say something like “I’m going to go visit my sister on Sunday, which is an ordinary conversation. Added with a prayer would be “yes if God spares me, that is. ” There was nothing ordinary about that, I would question “why wouldn’t God spare you, he loves you!” It was a confusing time because then I would worry if that loved one was going to die! Then I would spend my time worrying and praying instead of playing and just being a kid. There’s no wonder I grew up with anxiety, I don’t blame anything or anyone for it. It was a generation of worriers raised by another older generation of the same. Growing up as empathic child was a double edged sword. I could always feel so much love by absorbing the energy around me. Than the alternative was fear, worry, and hate, and emotions so ugly they would wake me up screaming at night. My beloved Mama and my Gram would always protect me from myself. There was lots of prayers, love, and secrecy. As I told them about my dreams, aura colors, and energy I picked up around me. They were my precious protectors and really made me feel safe, even if all I was feeling was uncomfortable. So I question myself endlessly am I the product of my environment or blessed with spiritual gifts? I could let these deep thoughts and emotions overtake me and send me into a swirling vortex and suck me in. Yet I fight against them and just give them a moment of time in my head, and then move on. I owe it to my family to not always feel fear and worry. I don’t want to raise my sons to be afraid of life and all the wonderful things in it. I always have to fight and be vigilant to not let the demons of worry enslave me. I learned a lot from my previous generations of wise elders. I need to have my faith in God, the love of my family, and the believe in myself that I can rise above whatever my fretful mind can worry about. I owe to my family to at least try….

This has been my Sunday confession for Ash at http://morethancheeseandbeer.com. Check out her blog and all the awesome talent that link up. Smooches. 😘

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Close

There are a lot of times I want to close my eyes to the truth. I want to believe the best about people than seeing and feeling their lies. I want to have faith that the medical professionals I deal with have my sons best interest at heart. I have to fight long and hard to advocate for my children, to get the help and services they need. Today I met with a sleep specialist who I’ve been needing to meet all my life. She was able to pinpoint what was exactly wrong with my son in a matter of minutes. She was very thorough and careful with him as she knew of his sensory disorder. He trusted her enough to let her touch his head, face, and ears which he would go mental about if it wasn’t me. He trusted her as soon as we walked in her office so that allowed me too as well. She told me he was experiencing all his sleep issues due to allergies. He’s an open mouth breather, orally fixated, and has hypotonia of the jaw so I have to monitor him while eating and sleeping. I love my child so much and all this repertoire has been exhausting for us both. Now he will see an allergist and will be put on medication to reduce the inflammation. The Dr said she will treat the sleep apnea when everything else he’s experiencing shows improvement. So my head’s swimming with all this new information, and I go right into research mode absorbing and learning as much as I can. I will be changing to a gluten free diet, increasing his iron stores, and continuing with his sensory diet for regulation. I learned more in that 30 minute office visit than I did in a year of assessment after assessment! I wanted to close my eyes and take it all in, finally someone who was helpful and honest enough to give me answers. And then the tears of relief started flowing as I hugged my boy so tight and shook his Dr’s hand. She is the best of the best and we’re very blessed to have gotten an appointment in the first place. I have prayed for this day to come for a long, long, time. For God to guide me in the direction of health and healing. This amazing Dr even gave me an exam and wants me to get tested for sleep apnea! She said there is genetic preposition to why my son at the age of 3 has it. So there I sat in her office tears streaming down my face and feeling the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders. I live a precarious existence surviving on little sleep, lots of caffeine, little support, and my blogging to keep me sane. And tonight for the first time I close my eyes not in exhaustion, but in gratitude for the blessings bestowed upon my family. I close this chapter in my life being fuelled by caffeine and anxiety to keep me running my household like a fine oiled machine. And I open my mind and heart to new ideas and possibilities, that I’m not alone in my struggles anymore. As I walk this new enlightened path to the truth. Growing closer and closer, to freedom and faith.

Today’s Sunday confession is brought to you by Ash at http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please get up close and personal with her blog and all the other amazing bloggers that link up. Much love and respect. ❤️

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