In a funk . . .

I feel like most of the blogs I read, and everyone I know on facebook, has been listing the things they are most thankful for this month, in the spirit of the holiday. I didn’t. I don’t know why, but those facebook status updates irked me this year. I’m all about being ‘thankful’ but I find it odd to do it on such a public forum. Like, can’t people just be silently grateful for what they have? I feel like too many of those status updates are really just people’s way of shouting to the world all the wonderful things in their life . . . e.g., “My husband is so freaking awesome; my life is so awesome; etc.” I posted once about being thankful that my blackberry allowed me to work remotely and travel to see family, so I guess I’m guilty too, but I got sick of logging into facebook every day only to see/feel like people were just using the month to brag about the awesomeness that is their life.

I may just be being a big fat scrooge. I’m in a funk. I thought about writing a Thanksgiving blog post about how grateful I am that Sam is constantly making progress (she is, lately more than ever) or how grateful I am that we get to start the EI preschool; or how grateful I am that we have such supportive friends and family; how thankful I am that I have a magical little girl (I do!). I AM thankful for all of those things, but truthfully, I wish that my “gratitude” could be a little less delayed-centric, if that makes sense. Somedays (like today) I just wish our world didn’t revolve around measuring and worrying about “progress;” I wish that our circumstances weren’t so that I feel like we are constantly looking for it; that the first things our families tell us or say about Sam is “how far she’s come,” that we didn’t know what a damn EI program is; etc. I mean, yes, I’m grateful we have that program to help her, just like I’m grateful we are able to take her to the Johns Hopkins Hypotonia clinic next week; but frankly, I’m just having the kind of a week where I wish we didn’t have a reason to go.

Sometimes I feel like I just want to live in a bubble of happiness with my family of three . . . where milestones, IFSPs, progress reports, etc. didn’t happen. Because when it is just the three of us? I am so able to focus on the cans. On the right now. But then things happen -- like being around other kids near her age -- or younger -- and as much as I don’t want it to, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut with reality . . . that things like kneeling, pulling to stand, climbing, etc. are EFFORTLESS to other kids, but not mine. Yes, I’m so very thankful that my child is happy (there’s no doubt she is that), safe, and loved (oh so much); that she’s not on a feeding tube, oxygen, etc. We can always find someone “worse off” to put things in our own lives into perspective, but the truth is, its okay to just be pissed that things aren’t easy sometimes too. And that’s where I am. Pissed off and a little sad that it is my kid that is struggling with the things that come so easily to others. Wishing I could make things easier for her. I’d cut off my left or right leg or any other body part to make it so. That’s how I feel today, and I’m going to let myself feel that way. I’m going to let myself be mad that I did EVERYTHING I was supposed to while pregnant . . . and that my child is still “struggling”. To be pissed and throw the “it’s not fair” card that women can snort cocaine or meth or whatever while pregnant, and yet have “typically developing” kiddos. To just stop and wish for one second that our road were easier. That my sweet Sammie B didn’t have weeks filled with therapies.

I’m very very careful as I write this blog to think about how a 15 year-old or 20 year-old Sammie B might somehow interpret it. I would never ever ever want her to feel like I mourned HER; like I somehow wanted to change her. That’s not it. I don’t mourn her. I adore her with every fiber of my being. But today, today, I am mourning a little bit that she has to do PT, OT, etc., to learn to do the things other kids seemingly learn by osmosis. Today, I’m allowing myself to just sit and think that it just f’in stinks that she’s not running around, effortlessly, like her peers and cousins. I want that for her. For her. Not for me. For her. So badly. So very very badly. And that’s how I feel today.

But tomorrow is a new day. A very big new day. The day that Sammie B goes to “school” for the very first time (her EI preschool). And in line with my family's tradition, I'm planning a small celebration for her first day (cake! presents! and of course, a new outfit). My mama always did that for me, and I'm so excited to do it with my girl! (Even if my cake is from a fancy pants bakery and not homemade :o)).

And this funk? It shall pass. Because I have this sweet face to look at and love and smother with kisses. And that always helps a funk to pass more quickly. Now if only this day would end so I could get home to my sweet girl, her sweet smile and give her a ton of hugs.