Bloom Where You are Planted

  "Bloom Where You are Planted." My grandmother has a framed cross-stitch with those words sitting on her mantel. She has had it for years and considers it a sort of mantra for herself. As a teenager I never really paid it much attention. I argued that people weren't "planted", they chose a spot and put down roots.

  Yesterday, as I walked into her house to drop off the kids for their weekly visit, the cross stitch caught my eye again. This time I felt it resonate.

    I have been feeling quite sorry for myself and my situation lately. I am not usually one to wallow in the "could have been" and "should have been" in life; I usually just muddle through and consider it my job to do the best that I can with the hand I have been dealt.
   This week, I was faced with a lot of situations that served as painful reminders of my son's disability and the growing gap between his development and that of his "normal" peers. I think in my head I harbored the illusion that Cole was going to grow out of a lot of his issues and be this quirky but intelligent, successful, and independent man. Maybe a scientist, a doctor, or an artist.

   I finally realized that Cole's Autism runs deeper than I thought it did and it's pulling him back with such force that I can not see how I will pull him forward through this life.

  Then there is the financial burden of raising four children on one income and the frustration that I can neither work or attend college so that I can contribute in any way because of the demands of raising four children, two of which have been identified as having special needs. I have lived life in fast forward and where most couples are just starting out, we are 11 years and four children into this life. We are trying to live the upper middle class lifestyle, have our kids go to the good schools, participate in sports, have nice clothes, new shoes, and vacations. Often we fail at that, and it hits me hard because I swore that I would try to never have my children be at a disadvantage because we were teen parents. I have always tried to be the "traditional" mother that is usually characterized by women ten years older than me, having gone to college, began a career, met their sweethearts and gotten married, bought the house with the white picket fence, THEN had the 2.5 kids and the dog.

     I struggle with the bitterness of regret. I wanted to go to college, all my teachers told me I was bright and could be anything I wanted to be. In 4th grade I had dreams of Harvard or Yale and even during the worst of my battles with Bulimia and OCD I still scored in the top two percent consistently. Circumstances and bad choices derailed me from fulfilling my aspirations. It has been hard to come to terms with the prospect of never actually seeing my dream realized.

     This is where I have been planted, and I have struggled to grow in the often unforgiving terrain of my life as it is now. I have certainly developed the thorns to protect myself, but I don't think I have allowed myself to bloom.

   I have got to learn to look at my life, not for what is could have been or should have been, but for what it is now. To "bloom" indicates more than growing, it indicates flourishing and I have not found a way to do that yet. I think the first step is to find happiness and satisfaction with myself and my life as it is now. I need to accept Cole's Autism and the impact is will have on my life forever.   

   I was a teenage mother. I got married too young and there are things I missed out on because of that. I had a child with a disability that has changed the trajectory of my life forever. I can't change those facts.

 But...

 I have four beautiful children, who give me a sense of purpose and fulfillment that no career in the world could give me. Cole's Autism has taught me to be more accepting of people, to see the world through a different  set of eyes, and it has presented me an opportunity to help others who are struggling.  Degrees and accomplishments can not cuddle up and watch cartoons with you. Vacations and nice shoes can't replace mom being there to greet you and make you a snack when you get off the bus. We will always have less things, but I am willing to give up things to have time with my children. I suppose I need to worry about making memories instead of money and I need to help Cole find his happiness... not his highest level of functioning.

   Of all the hard lessons I have learned in life, I think the most valuable one I can teach my children is to learn to bloom where ever  they are planted.

Blogging for a Cause

Cole was different from the time he was born, he never acted normally as infant and suffered from sleep and feeding issues from day one. He would cry for hours a day, until he vomited or developed hives or simply passed out from exhaustion. He demanded to be held around the clock and threw horrible fits whenever I tried putting him down, as if he were terrified of being let go. The panicked screams didn't seem like they were the normal temperamental cries of a spoiled baby whose mother simply didn't put him down enough. He was  absolutely terrified of the world around him. I took my concerns to his pediatrician and a developmental specialist who advised me to let him cry it out. Two evaluations showed him to be developmentally normal, but socially delayed.

 
 I assumed maybe I was crazy, maybe all kids do stuff like this, and I am overreacting.




      From 2 to 4 years old Cole seemed to be in his own world, he talked but a lot of times he didn't make sense. He would repeat phrases over and over and he called himself "You" instead of "Me" or "I." If you asked him "Do you want a cookie?" he replied "You want a cookie." instead of yes or no. I saw other children his age having conversations, but he didn't seem capable. I wondered, but his doctor didn't seem overly concerned, so again, I assumed that maybe I was making too much of it. He was talking after all and as the doctor pointed out, he had a large vocabulary.
   He was also afraid of everything, lights, vents, fans, trash cans, noises, hands, eyes, and pipes. The world seemed to be a foreign place to him and the smallest thing seemed to send him spiraling into a meltdown that saw him banging his head or injuring himself in other ways. He frequently threw screaming fits in stores and I got stares and comments from shoppers and even drew the attentions of security a few times. I was frustrated, I felt like a failure as a parent and everyone around me seemed to feel like these were behavior problems that resulted from indulgent and inconsistent parenting on my part. I cried all the time, I tried everything and nothing worked and it seemed to be ineffective because Cole seemed to have a problem understanding certain things.

  I ended up in a very dark place, I was depressed and isolated. Just remembering those years makes me emotional. I had this gut feeling something was very wrong with my son and I was afraid I had somehow caused it. I tried to help him but I could never reach him. He didn't hug me or say I love you, he wasn't affectionate at all. I was confused and hurt by that. I couldn't connect.

 At 4 years old he went to a 4K program and we had to receive a home visit from his teachers. I had knots in my stomach during his first days of school, expecting DSS to show up at my door and ask me what I had done to my son to cause him to be so non-functional. The day the teachers were scheduled to arrive I was nervous, expecting admonishment and criticism. I was surprised to find them sympathetic and concerned. It was through them that I heard the word Autism for the first time.

 To make a long story short, by the time he was 6 years old he was diagnosed with Autism, but I was still in the dark... completely. Now I had an answer as to why Cole behaved the way he did, but I had NO clue what to do to help him. I had lost 6 years in my mind, so I wanted to get him help right away and I didn't even know where to start. I called several agencies and got nowhere. Then I called Family Connection of SC and got Hollye Reid, who is now my good friend, on the phone.

  Through Family Connection I learned to advocate and they gave me a starting point. I think the most invaluable thing they gave me though, was the realization that I wasn't alone and my son wasn't the only one. All those years I had felt isolated, ashamed, and at fault for Cole's issues and I finally realized that I really hadn't done anything wrong! I saw these other mothers, who were very kind and caring mothers, and they were dealing with the same issues. I can't begin to tell you the weight that was lifted off of me.

 Those dark years and those feelings still haunt me at times, and I told myself that when I got strong enough that I would give back. I wanted to make sure that no mother ever has to feel the way I felt.

  I have been given that opportunity now, working with Family Connection, to reach out to other families and parents who may be in that place. I want to be able to offer them a light too. I am not interested in the politics of the business. I want to help people and it is for that reason that I am writing this blog and telling my story.

  I realize that there is a lot of need out there and very little to go around, but if you have the ability any donation you could make would make a huge difference in what we can do to bring families together and help children with special needs like Cole.

Donate To Family Connection of SC