Me: I remember her fondly. That is, the me who used to spend Sunday afternoons reading. The me who used to go out dancing on Saturday night with girlfriends, and end up grooving with some cute guy on the dance floor. The me who used to love planning exotic vacations just as much as going on them. The me who used to take a couple of hours off at work during lunchtime to go check out a photo exhibit around the corner. The me who had regular DIY spa nights—steaming my face, applying a mask, polishing my toes. The me who spent hours on the phone with girlfriends, gossiping, exchanging advice, pondering the meaning of life.
This is the me that I still haven’t quite adjusted to, six years into motherhood: The me who finds it miraculous to have time to read a couple of chapters of a book in a row. The me who dances in the living room to Laurie Berkner (but nowhere else). The me who plans trips that center around life-size cartoon characters. The me who scarfs down lunch at her desk in order to get home to the kids at a reasonable hour. The me who considers washing my face at night a treat. The me who is thrilled to have the energy to talk with friends for a few minutes at night.
And then, there’s the me I have adjusted to: The me who loves her children beyond her wildest dreams.
What me did you used to be?
I used to the the girl who would read books for hours upon hours with no track of time. The girl who used to write stories of love, lust, passion and romance. The girl who used to go out with her friends and dance the night away or shop till I dropped and then do it again the next day. The girl who used to make sure she left the house with at minimum some lip golss and eye liner. The girl who saw the world at her feet and any path to take.
The woman I am now is the one who finds herself up at all hours reading articles on autism and advocacy and laws. The woman who writes letters to teachers and admnistrators and doctors to make sure everything is covered and taken care of. The woman who dances and cradles her child while he cries because he is so hungry and the new diet he cannot stand or tolerate. The woman who shops on-line for therapy materials and books and home repair materials to fix the damages that her children have caused with their sensory issues, melt downs, etc. The woman who walks out of the hosue with at minimum brushing her teeth and hair. The woman who wouldn’t give up this life or her children for the past, no, not ever.
I used to be the girl on stage, wearing a beautiful costume under the stage lights, bringing a character to life by reciting the words someone had written for her. The girl who sang folk songs and Rock n’ Roll in a clear, strong voice. The girl at the cafe who wrote stories and poetry all day long while drinking cup after cup of bitter, strong coffee. The girl who dreamed of being a dancer and for a short time was able to make that dream come true.
Now I’m the woman who writes words for other people to perform. The woman who sings Laurie Berkner songs in a softer voice. The woman who cries in the middle of the night when no one can hear. The woman who has learned to be stronger than she ever imagined possible. The woman who is a mother and loves her child more deeply than she thought anyone was capable of.
I used to the girl who sang, and danced, and wrote stories and went to bed late after spending the night with friends. Now I’m the one who stumbles around half awake looking for clean syringes at 5am. The one who wakes up at all hours of the night to comfort a screaming baby, the one who spends countless hours in appointments with specialists and occupational therapists, the one who spends time learning braille and O&M techniques. And the one who spends an equal amount of time hugging, kissing, and loving her beautiful, perfect, precious baby boy.
I was the career focused, success driven, travel 30 weeks out of the year guy who didn’t let any wants or needs of someone else get in my way. I did this for 10 years and it paid well in all areas except where it mattered.
By then my daughter was 4 years old and had just learned to walk, but not talk. My wife was shell shocked and exhausted and I threw the old me out the front door so I could do not just what I needed to do but wanted to do.
I changed my path and I have a great life because of it. They needed me like I needed them and I’m just so glad I realized it.
I now hold the record for the watching of Charlie Brown videos and playing house.
I advocate for her peers like I do for her, because they all deserve a chance.
And the Special Olympics just rock.