A sassy, crafty mama bird from Los Angeles
raising a very sweet little girl with Autism
and a new baby boy in the Midwest... and other stuff, too.

Monday, January 25, 2010

hunting for hope

I did something big today. Really big. I cleaned out the storage room in the basement and filled my car with stuff I don't need anymore. Baby stuff. The bouncy seat, bumbo seat, jumparoo, boppy pillows, portable high chair, infant car seat, first potty seat, etc. Then I drove it over to a place where people turn when they're in need. I know these things are better off in someone's hands who will actually use them. The lady at the facility asked, "how old is your child now?" I said five. She casually replied, "ahhh, school age." Insert knife in heart. "yep," I responded. When she grabbed the baby potty seat she chuckled and joked, "I bet you're glad you're done with that!" Twist said knife in heart. I smiled my fakest smile and reminded myself to breathe. Greg was with me this morning before he hopped on a plane. We loaded up the storage area of this charity and I took a second to look at our stuff. Got a little sad. Not because of the whole I-want-another-baby-but-dont-want-to-risk-it thing. But, because that was MY baby's stuff. I miss that new baby feeling when there's so much hope and happiness and everything is exciting.

This afternoon while meeting with the psychologist who treats Little Bird, I asked him the 3 questions that I ask everyone who works with her from time to time: 1) do you think she'll be a functioning member of society? 2) do you think she's gonna live with me forever or do you think she'll be able to live independently one day? 3) do you think she'll end up in a group home?  His answers: 1) I don't know, 2) I can't quite tell yet, 3) I can't tell that, either.
Heavy, right? I walked out of there and couldn't even remember those feelings of hope, happiness, and everything is exciting. Of course, no one could answer those questions for me. Ever. There's no crystal ball. I've heard it a million times. I'm still hunting for it, though. I'm hunting for hope.

1 comment:

My name is Erin. said...

You asked me once how I remain so optimistic. I think I said it then, but I'll say it again. I'm not always optimistic. But I choose to think positively. I choose to live in the moment and not think about the future so much. If I didn't, I might go crazy with speculation and grief. And by crazy, I mean crazy. I feel like I teeter on the edge of it so much of the time. I have to think, what I have today is enough for today, while I continue to plan for the future, because today is all I really have. None of us are guaranteed our next breath and I try my best to make each one count, though I fail miserably a good portion of the time. I just keep trying.

My hope for you is that you find contentment in your moments.

I wish I could bring you a coffee and a smile today. Though I'd have an insane 2 year old with me, too, so the smile might be a bit forced and an attempt to keep my sanity from slipping that much further down the slippery slope.

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