Sometimes I wonder...
What if?
I mean, what if there was no seizure activity. What if there was speech. What if Ryley could do all the same things as other kids?
Sometimes I wonder how Braeden became such a helpful beautiful little person. How does he know when Ryley wants his drink? How did he learn to push the chair over to the bench so he can reach all the things he isn't allowed to have?
Today, I had a fairly emotional visit with a family and almost straight after I presented a session about Chronic Sorrow and Family Centred Practice. So I talked about grieving and readjustment and how all families have different ways of coping...
And then I thought to myself: When did I first realise that Ryley was never going to be "normal"? It seems like an eternity ago. And I actually can't remember. I wonder if these means that I am so well adjusted that I have come way too far to even think about it. Or, does it mean that somewhere along the way I have blocked all of that out of my mind?
Probably a combination.
I mean, we all tend to remember things the way we want to. Over time, memories change, so we can't always be accurate in what we recall. The way I tell the story, is that Yes, I definately went through a grieving process, and perhaps one of the reasons I have always coped reasonably well is because:
a) I have always seen Ryley for who he is, not for what the disability may or may not be. He has always been a person first. That has never changed.
b) I have always allowed myself to feel things. When I was sad, I acknowledged it. I might not have proclaimed it to the world, but I proclaimed it to myself.
c) I have always been able to communicate with David. He has always come with me to as many appointments as he could and he has patiently listened and helped with therapies. He has always been my rock. Always will be.
So still, this doesn't really answer when I first realised that Ryley was different to the 'norm'. But I don't know if it matters. Regardless of whether he has a diagnosis of anything, he is just my precious little man. Who now has an equally precious little brother.
Thinking is so overrated.
Thank goodness I am now ready to pack up and head off on our road trip adventure. I will no doubt have lots of stories and photos to share when we get back!
I mean, what if there was no seizure activity. What if there was speech. What if Ryley could do all the same things as other kids?
Sometimes I wonder how Braeden became such a helpful beautiful little person. How does he know when Ryley wants his drink? How did he learn to push the chair over to the bench so he can reach all the things he isn't allowed to have?
Today, I had a fairly emotional visit with a family and almost straight after I presented a session about Chronic Sorrow and Family Centred Practice. So I talked about grieving and readjustment and how all families have different ways of coping...
And then I thought to myself: When did I first realise that Ryley was never going to be "normal"? It seems like an eternity ago. And I actually can't remember. I wonder if these means that I am so well adjusted that I have come way too far to even think about it. Or, does it mean that somewhere along the way I have blocked all of that out of my mind?
Probably a combination.
I mean, we all tend to remember things the way we want to. Over time, memories change, so we can't always be accurate in what we recall. The way I tell the story, is that Yes, I definately went through a grieving process, and perhaps one of the reasons I have always coped reasonably well is because:
a) I have always seen Ryley for who he is, not for what the disability may or may not be. He has always been a person first. That has never changed.
b) I have always allowed myself to feel things. When I was sad, I acknowledged it. I might not have proclaimed it to the world, but I proclaimed it to myself.
c) I have always been able to communicate with David. He has always come with me to as many appointments as he could and he has patiently listened and helped with therapies. He has always been my rock. Always will be.
So still, this doesn't really answer when I first realised that Ryley was different to the 'norm'. But I don't know if it matters. Regardless of whether he has a diagnosis of anything, he is just my precious little man. Who now has an equally precious little brother.
Thinking is so overrated.
Thank goodness I am now ready to pack up and head off on our road trip adventure. I will no doubt have lots of stories and photos to share when we get back!
Have a good road trip. Hopefully you get lots of rest and relaxation! AND FUN!
ReplyDeleteI can remember when it first occurred to me that Ashlea was going to have 'issues'. I think it is good that the future unfolds slowly as it would be impossible to deal with it all in one hit - whereas when you find out slowly I think it is easier - by that stage you are so in love with your child you are able to see them - not just the diagnosis.
ReplyDeleteHave a great time on your trip!
Ryley is just Ryley to us too, and Braeden is Braeden. They are both incredible in different ways and we love them both for what they are and AS they are. And we love you and David and think you are both incredible too and we are proud of the kind of parents you are. Those boys are very lucky to have you. Not all children are so lucky. Have a wonderful holiday and enjoy seeing all your WHS friends again. xoxo
ReplyDeleteI'm sure our minds generally do at least blur the memories of our most difficult times, a necessary coping mechanism I think.
ReplyDeleteI hope you, David and your gorgeous boys have a wonderful trip and enjoy lots of sunshine and relaxation !
Caroline
Anna, have a wonderful trip xoxox. Oh and all those feelings and thoughts I know too well and yes indeed thought is overrated! best not to think! lol
ReplyDelete