The future, something that never escapes my mind. What position will we be in? Will we know what’s causing Carter’s issues? What will he look/act like? Will he know me by then? Will he still be alive?
The questions and concerns haunt me. I’m not sure whether it’s a future I look forward to. My experience with motherhood is nothing like I thought it would be, so thinking about my upcoming experience with the future is terrifying.
Carter is still small enough that strangers don’t stare. They still believe he’s 6-9 months old. So a floppy baby who doesn’t give you any feedback is semi-normal at that age. How will I react as he grows? I probably need to craft a blanket statement, ready for those moments.
Will I be able to maneuver him around as he gets heavier and bigger? I’m 5 ft, 95 lbs. At 19 lbs, he’s getting pretty heavy for me.
Will he be able to learn? Go to school? Will he ever calm down? I could go on. I know the future is not promised to anyone and these are quite likely concerns of most parents, but I bet the majority isn’t thinking about whether you would be able to care for your child at home or have to place him in residential care. I bet not.
I try to be hopeful. As hopeful as I can be. Will we have enough money to enjoy life and care for him? I don’t know. I don’t know anything at this point that could even begin to point me in some sort of direction.
All I can do is hope. And advocate. I’m angry and frustrated at the system that’s supposed to help us and create a better future for my family. But they chose the wrong mom, because anger is a hell of a motivator.
Or maybe they chose right.