My Dream

5:30am, the house is silent, I am awake.  I just woke up from one of those bizarre, scary dreams, but I didn’t sit up straight with a pounding heart.  Instead I calmly opened my eyes and thought, “I can do this.”

In my dream I was defending my youngest son from an attacker, some primordial reptile beast, like a crocodile.  It had attached itself to his foot and I was frantically trying to get away, to push it off, to free my son.  I was terrified that it had hold of him and was maiming his poor body with it’s sharp teeth.  I kept calling frantically for my husband who was standing nearby to hear me, to turn around and help, because I didn’t feel I could do it by myself.  As my husband finally turned around I found I was able to push the beast off and realized it wasn’t biting him at all, just holding on.  As I kicked the beast out the door I also discovered that it was no longer a terrifying reptile but instead a dog, and a fluffy one at that!  The dog slinked off begrudgingly and I slammed the door shut behind it, holding it shut with my own body.

I recognize that this dream represents the emotional and mental process I have gone through lately.  I have experienced most of the stages of grief– denial until I made the call, anger (I still get angry sometimes), depression and the resulting overwhelming exhaustion.  I am realizing I have been depressed ever since Percy received his Evaluation.  It has been a very emotional experience and I have been mourning the death of what I expected, how things were supposed to be.  I have had to accept that fact that my son has something going on inside him that is causing his speech delays and other concerns.  I have been adjusting to a reality full of appointments and paperwork and therapy.  I have also gained almost 10 pounds (well, actually I found the 10 I had lost, so at least I am breaking even!).   I am now at the point that I realize I need to consider going on anti-depressants– my most recent hour-long crying spell scared me and I think I may need some help to deal with all these life changes and some of this new stress.  I do not say this lightly, but I know myself and my sensitive body well enough to know that sometimes I get stuck in a down mode after periods of extreme stress and need a little help to get readjusted.  

So now I am to acceptance.  It has been necessary to come to accept the unknown and that I am not in control, which is so hard for a mother.  Someone asked me recently, “Once he has been going to therapy for a while will he eventually catch up and be fine?”  I had to honestly answer , “I don’t know”.  I had to accept the frightening reality that it is possible that my son will struggle his whole life.  I am not being fatalistic, I am being realistic.  I hope that will not happen, but the videos I saw of children with Speech Apraxia who still struggle to talk as teenagers haunt me.   I also still live in fear that one day he will disappear like all those happy, loving, talkative children who develop regressive autism and become detached.  My heart breaks for those poor parents who can’t even get eye contact from their children. 

But I accept that this is our life and my family can get through it together.  It is hard sometimes, but it has also been a richly rewarding process.  The spectre of developmental delays, of treatment, is not as frightening now that I am facing it confidently head-on and not running away.  I know we are doing everything we can to help our son thrive.  I know he is not broken, just unique.  I also know no matter what happens we will love him.  I CAN DO THIS. We can do this this together.