Manic Monday Brought on By Sunday

I can't sleep. 

 

It's technically Monday (1:09 a.m.), and all I can think about is how I can't protect my kids from disappointment, embarrassment, and feeling alone.


Let me explain:

When Tate came bounding out of his evening church class tonight, all tooth-grinning and holding up papers, I breathed a sigh of relief. You see, there is never a time that I drop him off without worrying. This doesn't stem from any wrong doing on the church's behalf, or anyone's behalf for that matter. I worry about his peers asking him about his tics, and why he has those noises, hops, and facial twitches. I worry that they will make fun of him, or innocently embarrass him with childlike curiosities.

I personally wonder what makes him...well, tic.

I worry that someone will accidentally feed him something with wheat, or chocolate. (I have actually rescued him from that very thing more than once.) I worry that his asthma will flair up, though I know that is a rare occurrence in a church-like setting.

I worry.

Maybe it's because he is the "baby." Maybe it's because the church we go to is so big that everyone cannot possibly know what is going on with our littlest guy. Maybe it's because I know personally how humiliating it is to say, "I can't, because..." and then die of embarrassment on the inside (though nobody notices it on the outside).

Back to his bounding and grinning...

He proudly shows me this paper

(which took me a few moments to decipher):

Translation:

"Tate:

I, Tate, 

will clean my room,

make my bed,

do the dishes.

Obey.

*signed*

Tate"

Just about the time my heart has completely melted to butter, I hear crinkly sounds coming from the gluten free snack bag I packed for him.

(Me) *shocked* "You didn't eat your snacks? Was there not a snack time tonight?"

(Tate) *slightly irritated voice* "Yes, but they served pizza."

(Me) "Oh! I am so sorry! If I had known, I would have brought you one and given it to your teacher. I am really sorry."

(Tate) *still slightly irritated* "I told them I could only have some if it didn't have wheat in it."

(Me) *just rip my heart out now* "I am so proud of you for not eating the pizza. I know that was hard, but you did the right thing, and now you won't get sick." (Yeah...like he cares.)

>Inserting money into the soda machine, to purchase a prize for my little fighter<

He perks up, takes the Coke, and seems a little happier. But I know what is going on inside of him, because I have been there. I know what it's like to not be able to join in. I know how that sinks in way down deep. I know the depression and mortifying pain of being the different kid/adult. There is no way around it...it just plain stinks. 

So, my Manic Monday has me awake thinking about all of the ways I want to make this up to him. I am tempted to not take him to things like this anymore, to avoid further embarrassment, but I realize that is not the solution. Besides, he is a very social kid. 

I am afraid that he will do what I did: Take that social butterfly side and smash it face first back into its cocoon. It's safer in its shell, or so it seems.

Until you realize that the shell is pretty lonely, and you are still a social butterfly, though your wings are crushed.

No one prepares you to have a special needs child. Nobody tells you how hard it is, or the battles you are going to fight. They only tell you to stay strong, that it gets better, and that your child will thank you one day for protecting him/her from things like dangerous foods.

I have my doubts. Still, I cannot feed him what I know will make him sick, and the cycle of worry continues. 

 There is another thing "they" will not tell you: How UNBELIEVABLY connected you will be to your child's hurts, and how IMMENSELY you will love him/her/them...

...truly more than yourself.

Because of the love I have for my children, I can dip my finger into the immense ocean of love that my Heavenly Father has for me, and understand it ever so slightly. It is because of that Love that I find peace and encouragement. I am my Father's and He will sustain me. He will sustain my children. He will hold my hand through this, and I do trust (I KNOW) that He sees all of it and cares deeply.

It is so hard though. So very hard.

How do YOU deal with your special needs children in similar situations?  How do YOU deal with any child who has been hurt, embarrassed, or left out? I would love to hear your thoughts.

Cheering you on & checking the fuel gauge,

Layla

P.S. A lighter post coming soon, folks. Just keeping it real. <3