Saturday, January 27, 2018

Last Words

"Well, text or call if you need anything." 

He replied with a thumb up. 

The next morning, I messaged, "How are you today?" but he never saw it.  His last words were in a handwritten note of which I keep a photo in my phone, which is not at all smart as I forget it is there. Whenever I spend time clearing excess photos, it jumps out at me like a monster, frightening me and bringing darkness.  Also, my phone could break.

I have already written a blog about the things I would have said if I had known, but today I became fixated on the last words we say to people at the end of conversations.  We fight with our spouse and passive aggressively text "ttyl" or say "whatever" and walk away.  Or we say even worse things with no passivity, only aggression.  We get so frustrated with our children that we yell "go to your room!" then marinate in our anger for hours.  We have coworkers that we like tremendously but treat badly because we are so stressed with work and deadlines.  We forget to say "I forgive you", "Hey, you did a good job today", or a simple "thank you."

I'm not saying every conversation has to end with "I love you" and this echoes a Garth Brooks song, but what if there isn't a tomorrow?  What would you want your last words to be, either spoken by you or spoken to you?

Although "I love you" would have been better, I am thankful the last words I sent to him were to reach out to me.  

Saturday, January 20, 2018

Down syndome and Moving Forward

I got the trend Ds tattoo of the three arrows facing forward symbolizing the three chromosomes and progress.  It means something great to me, but it also brought pain.

I admitted to my husband today that although I would never take Down syndrome from Trent, I would be lying if said I am not exhausted.  The polite words of "How sweet, you will have a baby forever" when he was born are starting to feel like a curse.  He isn't a baby; he is a 9 year old boy, but in so many ways, he is like a toddler.  And no one, no matter how awesome the toddler years are, wants a toddler for 9 years.  I.AM.EXHAUSTED. 

And I will be judged for being exhausted.  We are not supposed to hate any part of this journey.  We are supposed to be the chosen few mothers.  Most days, I love the club I'm in, but some days, especially lately, I'm ready to have a child instead of a toddler.  I won't even hope for the 9 year old  child.

Currently, I'm trying to teach him how to work the controller of the playstation to watch Netflix or his DVDs.  No matter how much many ways I try to teach it, it just isn't sinking in.  This is a first world problem for sure, but it still hurts in ways I can't explain. 

I am exhausted with diapers, with temper tantrums, with not knowing if he has outgrown his shoes because he doesn't tell me, with not understanding much of what he says. 

He is an amazing kid so full of love; I shouldn't be feeling this way.  As the tattoo symbolizes, I should just keep moving forward, maybe silently.  But really, I'm exhausted.