Mom! Don’t Bring Luke!

A few weeks ago, on a particularly warm summer day, Ryan and I announced to our crew –

Kids! You’ve been so helpful lately and did your chores without complaining so we’re going to have a family fun day at a water park!

Kids responded with glee and excitement and Yays! all around and asked –

Who’s going to watch Luke?

We’re going to bring him, we replied.

He’ll enjoy getting out of the house. 

Mom!!!!! NO!!!! bellowed the sounds of despair. We’ll have to leave early if Luke comes!

This is a constant dilemma we face.

We brought him.
He did make it very difficult and tiring.

We did have to leave early because Ryan and I were absolutely beat after a few hours of fun.

We arrived around 11:00 a.m. because this particular event had free food (major bonus with our crew!). We loaded all eight plates full of grub, and then Ryan retreated to the furthest corner of the park, in the shade, to feed Luke so that the stimulation of all of the people didn’t overwhelm either of them and so he wouldn’t try to grab the food off others plates (Luke not Ryan). I picked a table near the food because I knew my tribe was going to take full advantage of the free factor.

Mya took charge of Annabelle as she skitted about, and the rest were free to roam independently. Ryan and I took 20 minute intervals engaging with Luke. A word here – Luke is no longer content to sit. EVER. He has declared a mutiny on his stroller and wants nothing to do with it, but he needs constant supervision and assistance for his and others safety. We took turns introducing him to the parks plethora of activities – 5 slides, numerous water features, an accessible swing, acres of land to explore, lots and lots of hot dogs because he wouldn’t eat the chips or watermelon or popsicles.

About 3 hours later Ryan and I looked at each other and we knew – we were done. Physically, mentally and emotionally, and we also knew our kids wouldn’t be happy about it.

Let’s give them the 30 minute warning

My wise husband suggested.

We did.

The moans of disappointed began –

Luke always makes us leave early! Why can’t we find a babysitter for him? Why can’t you and dad drive separately? (Which maybe we should have but the park was about 45 minutes from our house)

WHY DO WE HAVE TO BRING LUKE? They wailed

And we responded, frustrated as well and exhausted, questioning the excuse we offered-

Because he’s part of our family, and we need to include him occasionally. 

We currently do not have a solution for this problem.

It is what it is.

We do feel the need to include Luke – even at the expense of his siblings happiness, but we understand their frustration as well.

This post is simply to bring awareness; the little things that special needs families struggle with such as decisions that sometimes cause pain for other family members. I do believe that our children will be better human beings in the long run for having Luke in their life as they have patience, flexibility, and independence that other kids may lack. They have also learned compassion and acceptance towards those who might not be just like them – those who might cause a bit of a disruption to their happiness – those like Luke.

 

Just keep livin.

Dock the Boat

Grief shows up in the strangest ways.

Sometimes it’s eating a whole bag of Cheetos – in one afternoon.
Or maybe it’s instigating a huge argument with your spouse over whose turn it is to bathe the kids.
It might be popping a few Advil because your head won’t stop pounding
Or maybe it’s crawling into bed at 8:00 p.m.
and not getting out again until noon the next day.
Sometimes it’s serving cereal for dinner
Seven nights in a row
Or having that extra cocktail
Even though you have to work in the morning.
Sometimes it’s organizing your whole entire house
All of the closets and cupboards
And making 10 trips to Goodwill
Just to avoid thinking.
Sometimes it’s actually sitting down
And turning on a song
That you know will ignite the waterworks
And soaking in the pain
Rather than tapping your feet to the joyful beat.

Grief is a strange & unpredictable force – like a river that rages at times and calmly flows at other times.

It’s a part of us, the river, part of the experience necessary for life – as is the boat we cling to as the water bends us to its will; the boat that provides safety or is it, perhaps, captivity?

We could choose to row towards land; exit the boat & sink our weary feet into the mossy ground. Maybe even build a home – create a life with someone we love. A life beside the waters with the boat docked at shore; remembering our time on the river and grateful that the boat no longer serves as a life preserver or a prison. We might learn to dance again; slowly allowing our feet to reclaim their joy, a dance beside the cool, calm stream; a dance of remembrance and thankfulness as the river continues to ebb and flow.

There is a time for everything
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance.

Just keep livin.

Manna for the Moment

Luke has been back in school for about a week now.

Experts claim that special needs caretakers often experience PTSD, and I particularly notice this tendency when I don’t have him on my radar for an extended period of time.

Every 30 minutes or so, I ignore the sounds around me – the whir of the washing machine, the chattering of my four year old, the constant buzz of lawnmowers outside – I ignore the background noise and selectively pinpoint my hearing to the basement – listening intently for Luke – listening for either a scream of “ALL DONE!” or, lately “WIGGLES!” which really just means I don’t like what I’m doing or watching so please offer 500 additional options, and then I’ll agree to one of them by telling you – “BYE! BYE!” Or I wander aimlessly to my bedroom where I check the 24/7 surveillance monitor, but there are no screams and the image on the screen is empty.

And every couple of hours I find myself in the basement, lost, having forgotten what I came for, but my body can’t forget the summer routine, and I breathe deeply – quickly checking for any indication that there may be a diaper to change but there isn’t. There are only the remains of Luke’s favorites: his iPad – in need of charging before he arrives home and numerous sippy cups scattered about that need cleaning – the only cups he will drink from.

And like clock work, morning, noon, and night I ask myself “What am I going to feed Luke today, and do we have those ingredients?” Due to sensory issues, I often prepare his meals separately, and due to my desire for him to eat healthy food, I will go the extra mile to hide the zucchini and green beans.

This is the process of PTSD for caretakers – always being on, always having our senses at high alert; always being at the beckon call of another. It is a refining process like no other; a constant laying down of our life and our desires for someone who is unable to care for themselves. It is a holy calling; it is an exhaustive undertaking. It takes patience and self care and sometimes righteous anger and unrelenting faith – faith in meaning beyond ourselves for that’s why we do it, right? Why we rise to the calling and fulfill the mundane and monotonous tasks day in and day out.

And somehow, gloriously – miraculously really – as the sun appears, or maybe it doesn’t some days, we are greeted yet again with the gift of time which will bring fresh grace and new mercies served alongside lots of lukewarm coffee as we hurriedly offer a familiar prayer – “Give us this day, our daily bread” – like fresh manna from Heaven – manna for the moment – and that is enough. It has to be enough.

Just keep livin.

Blessed Are the Meek

August is here – a month drenched in significance and redemption.

A month when Luke was born

And Jason died.

And three of my children said good bye to a mother.

Luke, who was declared terminal at 20 weeks in utero. Luke, who was never supposed to see the light of day & yet defied every odd when he came screaming into this world on August 12, 2004.

Jason, my late husband, a personal trainer and tennis pro- took his last breath on August 24, 2010 & entered the most beautiful light of day when he won his eternal race and accepted the crown of life.

Tate, Mya, and Jada – four days later, August 28, 2010, mourned the loss of their mother – a deep ache that no child should ever have to bear.

Three stories.

Each one intertwined to form a bigger story.

The eternal symbolism is never lost on me.

His strength is made perfect in our weakness.

A strong father who fought for three years – gone.

A young mother full of life and four months later – gone.

A little boy, the meekest of the meek, declared dead and 15 years later, living and thriving and spreading the message of hope with every step he takes.

His ways are never our ways.

“For I am God and you are not” thus sayeth the Lord of Hosts.

Blessed are the meek
And the weak
And the lonely
And those gasping for one more breath
And those with IV’s in their arms
And those swallowing big pills
For even bigger problems
And those seeped in depression
And those on food stamps
And those writhing in addiction
And those who aren’t sure they can make it one more day
Blessed are the single moms
And the dads too
And those crying out for relief
And those living in the shadows
Or those weeping beside a grave
Blessed are all of the Luke’s who came defiantly screaming into this world
With a gigantic F*#% YOU!
PG version –
Of course
And blessed are YOU
And you
And you
And you
The meek of this world
The lost
The forgotten
Blessed are YOU for you shall inherit the earth.

Just keep livin.