by Sarah | May 9, 2009 | All About Me, Crap
It can open up such a can of worms.
I once told the story of Alex* and how it came to be that I became single mother.Â
When I left North Carolina and eventually filed for full custody his last words to me were ugly and mean. He didn’t show up for the custody hearing, and on the advice of my lawyer I asked that if he was granted visitation that it be supervised. The judge agreed and he was granted visitation rights at a supervised location.
He never tried to see his son. He never called again, emailed again. When I sent letters to let him know of our change of address he didn’t sign – his grandparents did.Â
I had nightmares of what would happen. That one day he’d suddenly decide to see his son and my world would be torn apart.Â
HOW would I explain to my son what happened? I swore when he was a baby I would never say a cross word about his dad, and I never have. I want him to make his own decision based on the role Alex* chose to play in his life.Â
Then we grew and changed. We found Archie. The nightmares were still there, but they eased. The guilt I carried from the past eased. Brandon never asked about his real father or why his name is diferent from Archie’s. Ever.
Three months ago I was googling. I googled myself (except for my online screen name there isn’t anything about the real me out there). I googled my dad (there’s tons for him…he’s a top notch guy). My mom…not much there either.
Then I went into my past. I searched for an old friend (Kathy R, my Moe…I still cannot find you!) or two or three. Then for some unknown reason I googled him. My brain dredged up his old screen name and found him on myspace.
I went to his page. I saw pictures of him from recently. I learned where he’s living now. I saw that he’s still single…and there is no mention of his son on his myspace page. I’ve since joined facebook and he’s there, but private.Â
It reopened everything for me. The fears, the worries.
We have since talked to Brandon about it. He’s at turns distraught and confused and at others acts like nothing happened. He has many questions.
He wants to meet Alex.
I’ve lied for the first time. I told him I didn’t know where Alex is. That the picture I showed him was an old one of mine. In truth I only know the AREA Alex is and I’m sure I could find him…but I don’t want to. This is all too new, too fresh to Brandon and he needs time to process before we drag the skeletons out of the closet.
I don’t ever want to make that call. I don’t ever want him to express interest in knowing his son. I want our lives as they have been…but the info is out there and as he gets older, he’ll want to ask more questions. He’ll be able to find him all by himself.Â
I pray that I’ve raised him with enough love and happiness that nothing will change when this happens.Â
I fear daily that it will.
~~~~
*Alex is a pseudonym chosen for the sperm donor. Not his real name.
by Sarah | May 8, 2009 | All About Molly, Autism
When Riley was very young she had a wonderful tendency toward needing to be held constantly. If you were holding her she was so content. She smiled brightly for you and coo’d…but only in your arms. If you tried to lay her down it was all over.
Then at four months old when the horrors of GERD (reflux) reared their heads we started to lose that spark. Our little sweet pea withdrew into a shell of near constant pain and shrieking. The smiles lessened, the coos faded…and by the time the GERD was treated and peace was restored, it was like we’d lost that spark that had lit from within her beautiful blue eyes.
Over time she grew and changed, but she was always withdrawn. Removed from the present. In her own world. At times it concerned us, terrified us…but we learned to accept it and cope with it.
Brief moments of sunshine and brilliance would break through the crowds. Her brilliance at puzzles when she was a year. Her love of the Backyardigans. Her quick learning of letters and numbers. She astonished us.
She worried us.
The autism diagnosis confirmed our fears, and brought new ones. But all along, we knew that the sunshine was in there. We knew that she had parents that understood as best as they could. A dad that had grown up with similar issues and fears – and we’d make sure she knew that we would always try our best to understand and accept.
Lately – Riley has been letting out more and more of that sunshine. Her closed off and withdrawn nature has been becoming more of a side part of her nature. In its place is a bright, sunny girl that is just brimming with personality.
When she gets mad or wounded or upset she still pulls back…and we accept them as part of who she is and help her learn to cope with them.
But when she is not mad…she laughs and giggles. She bosses her sister around. She bosses me around, the dog, her brother…her Daddy…anyone within hearing range.
She asks questions and gives answers. She has learned the art of conversation – and while not always witty – it is always sparkling with her smile and bright blue eyes.
Does she talk as much as a normal 4 year old? No…we haven’t reached that level yet – but she’s so much more than she was a year ago.Â
She’s amazing. She’s brilliant. She’s adorable. She’s my princess.
And I’m so thrilled to see the sunshine again.
by Sarah | May 5, 2009 | All About Me, Crap
From the time I was little I’ve been warned against being a hypochondriac. My Nana was one…and I had a tendency toward it. In today’s world of the WWW that tendency can get nice and complicated with self-diagnosis via webmd and all of those wonderful sites. I have to say that overall, though – I’m pretty good at avoiding my tendency toward it.
Then again, in order to AVOID being a hypochondriac I go the opposite way and NEVER go to see the doctor.Â
Sunday afternoon I felt a burst of heartburn coming on. I don’t get it often, but a few times recently it’s reared its head. So, I went to the bathroom, threw down a couple of Tums and sat back down to relax in front of the computer.
The Tums didn’t help – in fact the pain got worse. And worse. And even worse. I stood up to get Archie and didn’t make it two steps before I collapsed onto the couch. It took four attempts for me to scream for Archie loud enough for him to hear and come inside.  The pain was excruciating and radiated through to my back. I was bawling and screaming…it was ugly and embarrassing.
After much debate I finally just told him to call the paramedics (the girls were napping, boy wasn’t home and we weren’t sure when he’d get back)…especially because I couldn’t get to the car under my own power.Â
He called the paramedics and our neighbor came across the street to start checking my vitals (he is qualified – it’s not random)…and by the time he did that and the paramedics arrived the pain was mostly subsided and I just felt nauseous.
But I got loaded into the ambulance and taken to the ER. My very adorable EMT-in-training did my IV…and I gave him an A+ because I hate having IV’s done…and I didn’t hardly feel it when he did it.
By the time I got the ER I was feeling really stupid because the pain really was pretty much all gone and I was only a little nauseous…and I was wondering if I’d just overreacted as always…
An EKG, bloodwork and ultrasound were done…and the ER doctor came in to say…
“You have a very ugly gall bladder.”
I was admitted and scheduled for surgery the next day! The doctor’s and nurses kept wondering at how I’ve never had any pain from it (I really haven’t – Sunday was my first ever attack)…and how I was sitting around smiling and joking with all of the nurses and my family. Apparently I was so filled with stones in the gall bladder and duct that I should have been in constant pain. So I was impressing everyone without even trying…
Now I’m home without my gall bladder and with 4 holes in my belly.Â
Well, at least I get to be waited on by my husband. He’s so wonderful and attentive…I should get at least 3 more good lazy days out of this!
by Sarah | Apr 28, 2009 | All About Kennedy, All About Molly
I’ve been missing the Weekly Winners posts. I love my laptop, but I can’t edit pictures on it and rarely get on the desktop so…well, I’m lazy. But, I’ve got some pictures for you from the girls birthday and then from last weekend when we all hung out outside enjoying the gorgeous weather! I’m missing it desperately today with the drizzly yuck…
[nggallery id=10]
by Sarah | Apr 24, 2009 | All About Kennedy, All About Molly, SID
With SID you have two camps – the sensory AVOIDERS…and the sensory SEEKERS.
I have two SID girls – one Avoider (Riley) and one Seeker (Angel).
Up until a year ago I was certain that having the Avoider was the “Worst” of the two. Social situations, eating, playtime were all such challenges. Planes flying overhead were a nightmare for weeks, trucks driving by.Â
Coping mechanisms were learned and slowly with time it became less of an issue.
Then we had our Seeker. I thought it was tough to handle when part of her seeking techniques were ramming her head into everything. Screaming at the top of her lungs. Throwing everything. Breaking everything.
But as much as we’ve been able to curb (some) of these events – in the past year we’ve had the occasion to experience the worst of the SID habits.
Smearing poop.
Poop on the walls, the beds, the clothes…IN HER MOUTH. It makes me wonder for her intelligence (sometimes when I’m most stressed) – and my sanity. It is one thing that I can seriously get truly and horrifically upset and disgusted for….
And it’s one thing that I haven’t the foggiest idea how to stop. The taste obviously doesn’t put her off. The smell. The feel. None of it.Â
I’ve found out through research and searching that this isn’t uncommon – but is ALWAYS stressful for the parents. I also see posts of some children doing it even after potty training, and beyond.Â
So for now I sit and research coping mechanisms again…although this time, I search for coping mechanisms for myself and my husband. I don’t think either of us look good bald.
by Sarah | Apr 21, 2009 | All About Kennedy
My mini-me…my screamer…my cause for many panic attacks…
Today you turn three! Three years old…How can that be? You were born so tiny, so early, and after a surprise (!!!) pregnancy that I was only aware of for 3 months before you joined us.
Your giant brown eyes so filled with joy and love…I can’t get enough of them.Â
You challenge us on a daily basis. You make us smile in the next turn of your head.Â
Despite the struggles and challenges you’ve brought us – with everything from just normal motion of your muscles to talking to breathing – you’ve blossomed into a bright little girl.
The cock of your head when you answer a question, or the way that you reply just by saying “okay” to everything. Frustrating – and adorable…and I wouldn’t take back one day of the past three years.
Happy Birthday, my Angel!
