Keeping Positive- yeah right.

This might be a bit of a downer so if you want something cheerful- feel free to skip this one.
Today is one of those days.

Last evening JD threw his dinner across the room twice because he wanted a Popsicle. Then to really get his demand across he hit, kicked, bit, and spit his food at me. In the midst of his outburst, I wondered- what if it's always like this? What if there aren't any improvements and we get stuck at a 3 year old level with significant behavioral issues? If at 3 he's this violent, what will the teen years look like? How the hell do I keep him from hurting me or the girls? He's getting real heavy for me as it is. I'm only 5'4" but my husband is 6'2". When I'm holding his arms and locking him in a hold while he thrashes and is having a spell, I'm holding 3 feet plus of almost 40 lbs of Anger. In a couple of years, I'm in trouble.

Yes, yes, I KNOW- it is what it is and we'll muddle through somehow, and there's always hope, blah, blah, blah. Give me a break. All the hope and prayers and all the other positive crap we believe isn't going to help me keep him or the girls safe from the rages now are they? What the hell is going on in their brains when they do these things? When he comes back from his road rage mental trip he apologizes and tells me he's scared and he's sorry. When these rages occur, he's not completely 100% with me and that hurts.

When he's self injurious, my heart bleeds. Seeing him slapping himself- that's worse than when he hurts me. I know there's a very big possibility that he'll always be self injurious regardless of how many therapies we take him to. I know I'll be there for him- but that doesn't mean I'll always be hopeful, positive, or even cheerful. Who the hell could be cheerful to have their baby hurt themselves or others for no apparent reason? Not unless it's someone well medicated or drunk. And that sure ain't me.

I read these blogs where people are angry at some of us Autism haters. Look folks, do I hate the people living with ASD? Don't be a jackass. Of course not. I love my son. Don't be even more insulting. Don't tell me what a freakin blessing Autism is. Don't ask me to look at the positives it has. Because from where I see it, from living with someone suffering with this freakin disease- there ain't nothing pretty, positive, or inspiration about the freaking disease. It sucks. Big time. And if you don't like school of thought then tough sh*t. In my house this is what ASD looks like when it gets bad. And I can't be accepting or positive about a disease that takes away my son's ability to not hurt himself or others. I can't accept or be positive about a disease that robs him of language that we are struggling to get back.

And I know we are lucky- lucky that he can speak and function as well as he does because I know there's always somebody else out there dealing with far more and far more severe. I am very much aware that we could perhaps regress more and lose what he's gained. From where I sit, there sure isn't anything pretty or hopeful about Autism. The only things that give me hope are the little bursts of sunshine I see shining through this dark cloud I like to call ASD. You know when he hugs and kisses me and tells me he loves me. When he runs and gets a toy for his crying sister. When he hugs and kisses his sisters. When he is able to speak in full sentences, when he's 100% with me and not in who knows where. I hope someday we get him to be present more often than not. I hope someday we can curtail the self injurious behaviors. I hope, really hope, that he can live on his own and be happy when he's older. But as quickly as thoughts of future days come, I need to push them away because its pure torture to think that far ahead. So let me say it again- I hate Autism. I hate the freakin disease. But I love a child that is living with ASD and I will always be his best advocate- even if it means I have to remain hopeful. Even on days I feel nothing but despair.

Am I burning out or is this just the norm?



JD running around like a nut (LCL 2012)

I've been so worried about JD getting burnt out and regressing. He's only 3 and yet I feel like we're on game show trying to beat the clock-- you know get all these early intervention services started before he turns 5. A mental check list in my head- gear up the speech, the OT, the ABA, increase social groups, blah, blah blah. He's only 3 and his schedule is busier than mine was when I worked and had a professional life. At what point do I stop worrying about burn out or is this just a new norm for us? Will this too be a part of worrying about my kids?

Here's a couple of my slip ups along the way- falling under the category Loser Mom Moments:

Soccer-
I tried enrolling him in soccer because he likes kicking the ball-- well that was a colossal failure. Who knew it was going to be an indoor event? Who knew there would be stinking wall to wall mirrors? The whistle constantly blowing? It was stressful for me and JD just shut down. We never went back after that 1st day. The shin guards and socks are still on the van somewhere. He did look cute in them.

Swimming-
 I thought let's take him to swimming- great OT, and it's a safety concern. Well most of the activities started this month and well we had a lot going on during the weekends this month it being Autism Awareness month. And earlier this month we were going through a I-Hate-Water-Touching-My-Head spell. Not great timing. So I said let's wait.

Music Therapy-
I wanted an ASD music therapy group only because the NT & Special Needs Soccer group turned out to be all NT and seemingly just JD as the special needs. Well turns out not enough people signed up for it and it was cancelled.

Gymnastics-
I didn't even enroll him in it. He's the right physical age but I don't know if he has the attention span and maturity to stay focused for an hour. He gets overstimulated fairly easily. He's so hyper and he goes from 0-100 so quickly in terms of excitement.

After gymnastics I said- hmm I'm going to stop for now. Let me wave the white flag. Maybe we'll just go to the playground alot this summer. Between that, the Zoo membership, the Please Touch Museum membership, I think we'll be fine socializing. I have lost the gameshow I think. Maybe I just need to take a couple of deep breaths and let him be a kid instead of scheduling everything before I burn out!  Here's a pic of JD being a kid at the Zoo this past weekend at the Lorax exhibit. JD loves Dr. Seuss.

JD at the Lorax vines (LCL 2012)

All those stupid questions!

We went to see the homeopathic doctor yesterday. She was one of those gentle quiet souls. I always feel subconscious and somewhat impressed by these types of people. I have a very strong personality and so I try not to appear as one of those annoying know it all pushy people. I had to answer a lot of the same questions I've been asked hundreds of times about my pregnancy with JD. It still rather bothers me to be asked and quizzed about my pregnancy. It's almost like they're blaming me for his autism.

Here's the conversation going on in my head during the quizzing:

• IVF pregnancy? Well there you have it, you did IVF and now you have an ASD kid. Studies say so! Good old Catholic guilt! Was I selfish to desperately want to experience the wonders of pregnancy?
• High blood pressure from the 1st trimester? Induced because of pre eclampsia?- These complications made your kid an ASD kid.
• Achalasia and you got pregnant? Well there you have it, your nutrient malabsorption is what caused the ASD! Studies say so.
• Breastfed and have a lot of amalgams in your teeth- How could you think of breastfeeding with that much mercury in you?
• Flu Shot!! You had the flu shot while pregnant? What are you stupid? It's your fault.

There you have it, when they start asking me about my pregnancy all I hear and see coming out of their mouths is- Selfish! It's your fault!! It's your fault!!

I am tired of answering these stupid questions, these stupid questionnaires.  Stop blaming me, stop inferring it's my fault. I already blame MYSELF! Don't you get that?! My kid is sick and I desperately want to help him, cure him, find the miracle- I am the screaming mom in Terms of Endearment. I blame myself and God forbid they develop Achalasia- I will probably crawl into a fetal position and cry. But I know that whatever comes our way I will get myself together and keep going forward because I'm the mom and as a parent we don't have the luxury to fall to pieces.

We left the DAN doctor (do they still call them that? Is that PC or not?) having spent $350 for a 2 hour consult, 3 supplements, and a detox and diet plan. Wow 1 months grocery budget on 1 visit. Insane that it's all out of pocket- damn HMOs! Lets hope we get some good results.

Fat lip and spilt yogurt

Today was not so great. Could've been worse though. I had 1 meal (dinner), 2 cups of water during the day, yogurt spilled on my pants at night, had a baby poke my eye, JD nailed me 2 times once on the cheek and once in the lip & teeth. I think my tooth is loose. So now I have to go to the dentist if it stays that way.

It was suggested that yelling at my kid made his ASD worse. Yeah because when you get a fat lip from your son banging his head against you and hitting the lip that just recovered- you wouldn't yell at him. It was not a sensory reaction- this was purely a temper tantrum- I didn't get my way so I'll head butt you move. He loves to do this whenever I've got him in a tight hug (to slow down his overload- he likes sensory input). I just wasn't quick enough to move my head out of the danger zone twice today. My cheek still hurts and my lip is cracked. 2nd time in less than 3 days that he's split my lip.

I'm struggling with getting family to understand that he needs consistency in whatever household he's at. What I mean by that- if at our house he is expected to sit and eat meals at the table and feed himself- then that same expectation should be enforced at anybody else's house. He is capable of self feeding and sitting down at a table to do so. I'm trying to do away with the high chair because I know he can do it and plus he's really outgrown it. If negative behaviors are reinforced out of "love and affection" it is a form of enabling. And you can't enable- what's the point of all of these therapies if they're being sabotaged? I know the intent isn't to harm him- but it is very frustrating to be having the same argument that I've been having since before we had a diagnosis. It is more frustrating on an empty stomach. And I get really cranky when I have a bloody mouth, a puffy split lip, and nothing to eat other than 2 cheese slices and a slice of cake. I admit I had a meltdown. I wanted to throw myself on JD's favorite spot and cry and scream. Instead I cried and screamed standing in my dining room. Sigh.

Hoping Tuesday goes better. Why it could've been worse? Well at bath time we gave him fruit snack candies as his positive reinforcement. I was able to wash his hair and body without any self injurious behaviors. YAY- Mommy 1- Bad bath time behaviors and crying 0! Oh and his school agreed to bump up his days to 4 school days a week in September. That my friends is what made is a bearable day. Like I said, it could've been worse. Not that I want it to be worse. I'm hoping Tuesday brings a much easier day.

Good night, I'm off to bed. Please Tuesday, be kind to me & my puffy sore lip. Please ABA therapies- help us curb the injurious behaviors.

Finally, my Achalasia story.

I wrote my Achalasia story years ago and keep updating it. I'm posting it below.

Pre Diagnosis:

As a teen I got into the habit of always drinking Sprite with my food. I often felt I was choking or gasping for breath when I first started to eat a meal. It was an internal struggle that I hid from everyone and really did not pay it much attention. I always thought it was because I was eating too fast, or the change between hot foods and the ice in the drink, or the harmless choking on water. It was gradual. No chest pain, just a gradual struggle with chewing and swallowing the meal. I started ordering a Sprite with no ice, convinced it was the food temperature changes that caused my difficulty. I had gotten good at dealing with my “eating” issue, and no one noticed, not even me. I got really good at making excuses for these symptoms.

         By Spring of 2004 I had gone to the ER so often that they thought I was a junkie and couldn’t really do anything for me except either give me pain meds or give me an antacid cocktail that I promptly regurgitated. And my poor hubby would go along with me wondering what the heck I had. By May of 2004 I had reached the point where I would lay in the hallway outside the bathroom and cry from the unimaginable pain that always came in the middle of the night and lasted until the next morning. I was calling out of work frequently. Reading my food diary was saddening. Some of the things I wrote down- grounded parboiled plain chicken, broth, crackers, milk, baby food. The story was always the same. Nothing seemed to be going down. I had gone to two GI’s and had had numerous tests done. Mostly they both thought it was reflux, anxiety, or gallbladder malfunction. I’d fired the two GI’s because they’d had the unmitigated gall to tell me that I was “overly sensitive to GERD discomfort and burning” and the other thought I had anxiety attacks and prescribed an antidepressant and anti anxiety medication! Well the nexium did absolutely nothing and I refused to take the anti anxiety or anti depressant because they would not take pain away.

Diagnosis:

Ironically the diagnosis came from the surgeon who ultimately performed my Heller myotomy. I went with a folder of all the procedures and tests ordered by the previous quacks that called themselves gastroenterologists. Based on the consult and looking at the extensive testing to rule out other diseases, she thought I had Achalasia or Barretts Esophagus. Neither seemed like something good to have. She sent me down to X-ray to get a barium swallow and we got the results the same day. While looking at a year old CT scan that I had brought with me, she noticed how dilated my esophagus was and how narrow it became as it got to the LES. How come she was the only one that and yet two different GI’s had looked at those same test results, I wondered? The barium swallow should the classic bird beak and a much dilated top of my esophagus. She wanted to schedule me for surgery right away but I needed time to grasp reality. By the end of that week I was scheduled for surgery in 2 weeks.

           In the beginning, I found it annoying and frustrating to try to adequately explain about the disease and the need for surgery. I can’t tell you how often I had to explain and how often I had to tell folks that I really did need the surgery, no different types of foods wouldn’t help, yes it is chronic- it’s not going away like a cold. My favorite was when people heard me explain how rare it was and indubitably they always knew  so and so’s friend/relative who had it too. Uh huh, that’s why I just spend 30 aggravating minutes drawing a damn picture so you understood what the hell it was. No one can really understand what Achalasia is and how it can consume your life, unless you have it and are dealing with it. As much as our family and friends try to be supportive, unless they have experienced the horrible esophageal pain or the horrid sensation of choking on food or waking up choking on your last meal, they can never truly understand. And I have learned to accept that and just be glad to have their support if not their understanding. So now when my parents tell me to try this or blend and puree this when I tell them I am having a bad food day, I just tell them ok and go on living my life. They mean well, but really I have become a pro at dealing with Achalasia. You have to be, because there is not much choice in the matter and there is not a ton of research or knowledge to this disease.

Since 2004, the spasms have lessened. Neither my annual barium swallows nor endoscopies have shown any deterioration's or changes. In 2007, I had a dilatation to smooth down some scarring by Dr. Richter. He had worked at the Cleveland Clinic and he had experience treating Achalasia patients. In 2008, I was pregnant and was worried about how I would do with Achalasia. Turns out I had nothing to worry about, it was wonderful. I felt almost normal and could eat pretty much anything. I had a couple of nasty spasms that called for a very rough night but all in all my Achalasia was almost in “remission” during the entire pregnancy. In 2010, I had another dilatation but found it was not as effective as the first. In 2011, I had twin girls and that pregnancy was also blessedly normal. I could eat as normal as I’ll ever be able to eat. I had maybe a week of intermittent spasms, for me the symptoms improved during the pregnancy. I have been incredibly fortunate with this disease. What do I mean? How could I be fortunate? Well it could be worse.

I have been fortunate to so far have a mild form of Achalasia (Stage 1) and have not needed further surgical intervention to treat it. I have learned how to adjust to life with Achalasia. For the rest of my life, every couple of years, I will need a barium swallow, endoscopy, and a biopsy. I hope that I continue to receive good news. I hope to avoid having my esophagus become sigmoid or a biopsy come back abnormal. I try not to worry about these things because I can’t control how this weird disease chooses to continue to degenerate my esophagus. For the most part I live a normal life, except that I chew things thoroughly, and by now know my trouble foods to avoid. Sometimes I get spasms that last a couple of hours and other bad spasms that last days. I think between the regurgitation, food stickage, and the choking, I hate the spasms the most. They are worse than labor pains. I would venture to say they are worse than a heart attack except I've thankfully never had angina so I wouldn't know. Spasms are like a charlie horse in your esophagus where the pain radiates through your body- from the front to the back of your chest. Sometimes I feel it in my throat- going up my esophagus. It is awful, it makes you want to carve out the pain and well I don't recommend esophageal spasms to anyone.

            Achalasia no longer rules my life and I now manage it- which is as good as it is going to get. Still I am hopeful they find a cure in the not too distant future. I worry that it is hereditary because of my children. I am convinced it is an auto immune disease and hopeful that stem cell research will find a cure for it someday.   

Some achalasia websites:
http://achalasia.us/AllaboutAchalasia.html
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001313/
http://www.uptodate.com/contents/patient-information-achalasia-beyond-the-basics

Depression is that which should not be spoken

What hurts the most about ASD- it took away a part of my son. Looking at his baby pictures and his baby calendar hurts. Getting up everyday hurts. Because I know he wasn't born this way. He met all his developmental milestones. Something happened at some point between 2-3. And now my boy doesn't smile in pictures, hates the camera, now he barely speaks Spanish-now he has Autism. And it hurts to know something took away a piece of him and made his life just a little more complicated.  If I keep looking back on the past, I'm sure it will suck me into darkness. I look at my kids, at them smiling, learning, growing- and I can kick depression's ass! I am lucky to have it so good. Yeah, I'm a half full type of person.

Let's recap- I get a weird esophageal disease that is so rare that most GI doctors didn't understand it. I was diagnosed my second year of marriage. The first year was spent in and out of emergency rooms and GI specialists. Oh and lots of pain. Severe pain. Fun times for the newlyweds. Then when we try and have a baby nothing happens. So we have to go through fertility treatments. Now ASD. Sure, all depressing and sad things. But are they tragedies? Only if I let them.

Here are the many benefits to these things-
Achalasia forced me to get louder. Yup, louder. I've learned to become my own advocate! And I have no problem voicing my opinion, even if I'm not an expert. Oh I research- but I don't take any one's word as enough. No- now I validate their decisions by thorough research- of my own.

Infertility was hard. Going through IVF- was brutal. But how lucky are we that we only had to do 1 cycle for each pregnancy? There are scores of other couples that undergo fertility treatments for years- cycle after cycle. For JD- 2 IUI's, 1 IVF. For the BOGOs- 1 IVF. How amazing is that?

ASD- Is teaching me patience, teaching me that expectations sometimes don't come true. We can't look back to how we expected it to be and live in the past. It is what it is. And as bad as some days get, at least we're all together and we'll all survive. So yeah- I'm a glass full type of person. Depression is an evil word not allowed in my house. And should the need arise- I will be the 1st to run to the doctor to ask for a happy pill. So far- no need. I once read a childhood book that said "To despair is to turn your back on God." And that my friends is why I will never let depression get me. Because if I turn my back, then I am truly lost. Without hope what would be left?

I'm The Easter Bunny!

It's true- I am the Easter Bunny in the Winnie the Pooh- Spring time with Roo. We watched it this past Easter weekend-  it's very Dickensian. Rabbit wants things done his way. Rabbit has a schedule and routine of how things must be. A checklist for everything. Because this is Easter and he's the Bunny, so He knows best. And just as we watched Rabbit in his rant- JD said, "Mama, Bunny is sad." I told my hubby that I was Rabbit! I'm the Dickensian Easter Bunny! And I don't want to be. I want to be happy.

Ever wonder how we get our "family roles" and how we can change them? I don't want to be Rabbit. I don't want to order people around, manage our checklist. . .the calendar. No, no, I don't want that. I used to be more laid back- pre Twingle land. I wonder, are all mom's or the dare I say it- primary caregivers destined to be the family cruise directors? The "responsible" parent?

What's that you say? We're going shopping? My mind goes into overdrive- immediately I start to think of what needs to be done. Ok, so read the rest of the next couple of paragraphs to the tune of I am The Major General. Because it's how I feel when I'm going through The Checklist of Readiness!


Here we go . . . Deep Breath
     Pack the diaper bag. 5 diapers for the girls, 3 diapers for JD, change of clothes for all 3, snacks and sips for all 3, baby food jars, wipes, 1st aid kit with medicines, some toys. Did I mention plenty of snacks? Sanitizer, Wipes- have I said wipes yet? Can never have to many of those. Camera. Because you never know when you want to take some pictures. My meds, bottle of water, nursing pads and a extra shirt for me. No extra bra for some reason. Guess I'll be sans bra should the need arise. My imaginary checklist is checked off with each item. Cell? Wallet? Calendar?

Deep Breath, and . . .Again

     Change diapers, check them just before we leave. Jackets on. Is everyone changed and does everyone have 2 socks? Is JD wearing shoes & socks? Are their hands and faces clean? Did they eat or drink, or nurse? Are they tired, is it too close to nap time? How are we sensory wise- does JD need time out or is he good? Does JD have his hot wheels with him? Am I dressed? Did I brush my teeth or brush my hair? Are my clothes clean or do I smell? Yes seriously- did someone throw up on me, spit up, or wipe their nose on me? Gasp, did I put on deodorant? Hmm, put more on just in case. Where the hell is my phone? Wow my hair looks bad, more gray hair. Need to go to the salon- seriously! And these glasses- need more contacts. No Cems don't put that in your mouth. Where the heck is the other one?

Catch your breath. Isn't that exhausting? See! I know! I turn into Rabbit Ranting. Instead I just want to enjoy the moment. But I can't, because then we won't ever be ready to leave the house. If I don't Control everything, Orchestrate everything, how can it possibly be done correctly? And if I didn't Plan for everything, then we might somehow be unprepared and be stuck miles from civilization without Everything. Is being a Mother synonymous for being the Planner? Is there a Mom who isn't a Planner- does such a creature exist?

Here's a pic of Rabbit, err I mean me- in my Master General disguise.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major-General's_Song

An apology to Hubby

I was reading an article on tips for after a recent ASD diagnosis. I'll put the link here. Wow was that kinda depressing. Have hubby pay you a salary for an aide in case you're in the 80% divorce rate for ASD parents. You know for the getaway money? Moms- you know what I'm talking about. The just in case cash or credit card you keep on the side in your name only. Oh am I the only cynical one that does that?  My bad. But after reading that I thought, wow, is that really what you want newbie ASD parents to read and have on their mind? Ha, thanks, because I need more discouragement for my marriage! As if it isn't already battling the trials and tribulations of ASD.

It's been a rough year in so many ways. I've been going out of my mind with worry, heartbreak, tears, laughter, and what has gotten me through it is HOPE. For the Some days to come back, because they're missing. Somehow while I was busy going through this process, our going on 8 year marriage has been rocked. I'm not airing dirty laundry- just a truism. Yes indeed this past year has been a test. And honestly I can see why the divorce rate is so high. ASD divides and conquers.

I am a mom first and my husband knows this. Hubby just has to be man enough to deal with it -and he has. He's a wonderful man, he's a wonderful father, and I love him because he agrees that the kids come first, no matter what. But Good Lord he drives me crazy! He handles things differently than me and I'm not very understanding. And to tell you a secret- I have panic attacks. I've had them off and on since I was diagnosed with Achalasia. It is an unpleasant experience because your body is out of control. And stress makes me get esophageal spasms- related to Achalasia. And man are they awful. Since I'm breastfeeding alot of the meds I take to treat the spasms and anxiety attacks are off limits. So I'm trying to muddle through as best as possible because they've become increasing a regular thing. I don't sleep well and all this comes down to me not being in the best frame of mind to be patient with anyone other than my kids. And hubby is convenient to vent on- because I trust him implicitly. And I know he loves me- so ofcourse that's the perfect person to vent emotions on right? Yeah I know, very twisted. My ASD mom's club is awesome. We talk it out and it's been great to become friends with them. It brings more balance into my life and is helping me to redirect the venting into more useful outlets. It helps to talk to some experienced gone through the trenches ASD moms.

In my zeal for confronting torticollis, ASD and developmental delays heads on- I have forgotten that my hubby too is dealing with the emotions and that he might be handling them differently than me. No one plans for the illnesses or disorders. No one plans for these things to hurt your children. There is no way to plan for them. And as us ladies know, men and women are different. Aside from the obvious anatomical differences- men also handle emotions different than women. Men want to fix. Well some things you can't fix. Somethings you just have to deal with as best as possible and keep on moving.

Borrowed from https://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=411289492219237&set=a.399523230062530.109241.296145297066991&type=1&theater

My everyday, 24/7 schedule of being a special needs mom is heartbreaking and I feel very much alone. Isolation- the other stage of grief. I'm not alone in feeling this. I've talked to other special needs moms- my new friends and support system. They feel the same way. We drive our vans from school to therapies. We open our house doors wide for the many therapists that will come and go. Each minuscule improvement is embraced and celebrated. And then we see a neurotypical toddler or on schedule milestone baby- and we cry in our hearts, where no one can see. Ok sometimes you can see the tears in our eyes- it's not selfish crying. We're crying for our kids, because this isn't how it is supposed to be for them. Why couldn't this sh*t happen to me? Sigh. And we feel alone.

During my business hours- when hubby isn't home or asleep- I am a single mom. I don't mean this in a mean way- but there it is. Hubby is at work and I'm silently going crazy. Thank God for my family who always babysits the girls or Cems while we go to therapies. I alone must decide therapies, approaches, etc. Put him on GFCF diet- me. Put him on 1-2-3 magic- me. Transitioning key words- me. tilt balance exercises for Ali- me. Stretches and lunges for Ali- me. taping, bracing for Ali- me. Whatever X method we're trying and having researched- all me. Some days I barely have time to use the bathroom alone because JD has to follow me around the house showing me things or  using me as his play tool. Then at night I sit on the computer for HOURS researching, reading, writing on my blog or thinking about writing on my blog. I write things for my blog in my head in the my 5 minute showers or deep at night when everyone is finally asleep. Me- wide awake writing a blog waiting for one of the kids to cry out. And then I realize I didn't talk to my hubby today other than the how was your day, hello, good night, what do you want for dinner. None of it describes my wants or needs nor do they address his. So we're simply living our own experiences and harboring our own resentments. And then I think- where the hell are our Somedays? Are we there yet?



So dear Hubby- I'm sorry for not thinking of you more.  I'm sorry for not recognizing that you're grieving and are just as bombarded with all these emotions as I am. Somehow I'm struggling to get back to our Some days when we laughed and handled things together but I have no doubt I'll get there. We've survived Achalasia, Infertility, one Kidney stone, 2 high risk pregnancies, and now we'll survive this- or at least put up a really big fight to learn to live with it as we both change and grow from this experience. But we have to both let go of expectations because they're a b*tch. And they set us up for failure. Besides we've been together 13 years, surely we've racked up enough reward points to get us through all of this?



Aruba 2007 Some Days- 14 months before JD was born

I've close by leaving you with a better tips list that I found this morning. It was honest and kinda inspired me to write the public apology to my hubby. I haven't been the nicest or most patient of wife's with my husband for a while now. But I'll get there. Read Good tips here.

Thanks for reading.