I guess being so new to this journey has forced a daily struggle on me that just won’t let up. There are moments, even days, when we are together and I think he is doing so well and progressing. Then there are days that set us back where I don’t think any of the therapy or interventions are making any sort of difference.
I was never one for patience.
Seeing other babies younger than him, or the same age, doing things man can’t, makes me unbearably sad. Those babies that smile at their mama’s voices or the babies that willingly interact with you. Man would be content laying on his side, sucking on his hand, staring into space….and most of the time I let him. Because that’s what makes him happy.
Then there are the times I can actually get his attention. Not with my voice or my face, but with a rattle. One damn rattle. The one thing I KNOW he will smile and laugh at. And I will shake it for hours for him, knowing he is enjoying himself.
When man makes progress, though small, it’s amazing. It’s always a moment to remember. And it’s never something huge. And sometimes my mind and body are content with this. Sometimes…they aren’t.
Sometimes I cry and long for some normalcy. Sometimes I feel like I’m the strongest woman alive and nothing will get us down. This, we can tackle and survive. Sometimes I feel like putty.
The struggle will tug and tug at you until you allow it to get to you and you break. Or you can grab it and tell yourself everything will be ok. And that’s the hardest part. Positivity is hard.
But this face. This beautiful, innocent face. I’m positive I’ll never love anyone as strongly as I love this man. I’m positive no matter how down I feel, man will never feel it. He will always know I’m here. I’m his person. Always.