It has been a perfect storm kind of week for us.
The boys returned Tuesday night after a trip to see their dad. (Read: Flights with uncomfortable seats – especially when you have an arthritic hip – crowded airports, babies crying, not eating well until we got home, and stress over the transition back.)
Wednesday we started Occupational Therapy again, because we still need it more than we thought. (Read: Get up and get going even though the flight got us in late, driving two hours round trip, and transitioning back into the routine of the exercises and environment.)
Wednesday night, my son and I headed to a hotel near the children’s hospital for appointments the next day. (Read: Two more hours in the car to get to the hotel, a different bed, different environment, different smells, and different sounds.)
Thursday morning brought anxiety and stress, over actually leaving the hotel to get to those appointments, for my sweet but completely overwhelmed son, and for me. (Read: Refusal to leave the bed, refusal to eat breakfast, refusal to take meds, refusal to get dressed, refusal to get in the car, refusal to get out of the car, and refusal to get in the elevator. We were a sight, people.)
After the appointments, which thankfully were a huge breakthrough in helping treat his autoimmune disease, we made the two-hour trek back home. (Read: Total joy for me because the doctor heard me, heard him, respected him, gave us treatment options, mapped out a long-term plan and included autism as part of the overall picture. Also, two hours in the car again melting down now, because it’s just been too much.)
So not our usual, carefully planned week.
Not our usual routines, diet, sleep cycles, or downtime.
My son had the worst of it. Sure, I can complain about managing meltdowns, and drinking hotel room coffee, and having to drive all over the place, and the stress of managing another meltdown – and trust me, it was hard. Really hard. Like please don’t ever let it be this hard again, hard.
But for my son? This week was excruciating on every level. His body, his mind, his emotions…the very core of who he is was threatened by all the crazy last week.
And you know what? He did it. He made it. He got through it.
My son taught me this week about perseverance, and doing hard things, and taking the day one step at a time, loving through the mess and the ugliness that life can bring.
My son taught me this week about trust, faith, finding good things in bad situations, and just getting back up again because that’s what we do.
My son taught me this week about pushing through pain, and finding beauty in the midst of it, even if it’s just a delicious tamale from a street vendor, or a beautiful coral changing colors in the fish tank.
He is better at this than I am – the bouncing back, the overcoming, the finding joy.
I am so very thankful for all that I am learning. I am becoming a better mom and a better human being, because of the way God is using this child in my life.
And more than anything else, I am so grateful that I get to be his momma.