I'm just looking for a hand to hold.

This is my special edition politics blog post. It's not going to happen again, so bear with me. 

I've been increasingly disappointed with our government since Bush took office in 2004. Every day I hear about more and more congressmen and women who decide that their rights, their money, their freedom, is more important than anyone else. I watch them be selfish jerks. I watch people like me, who don't have much, struggle because these horrible people want to cut funding for programs like Medicaid, or food stamps, or WIC. I see them look down on the people who "dare" to be poor...like it's a damn choice or something. I see them turn people against lower income families, calling them lazy and telling the hands that just want to be held that all they're after is handouts. And I grow more and more disgusted every single day. 

I see those memes people post about how poor people shouldn't have iPhones, or nice cars, or houses. I never even knew there was a requirement to be poor. I didn't know you had to look a certain way, or give up the stuff you rightfully bought before that big layoff at work, or before you had your leg crushed in a work related accident that left you disabled and permanently out of work. I didn't know you had to be wearing rags and going barefoot to be considered "poor enough" for food stamps. Wow. That definitely fooled me. Because if you owned an old iPhone and kept it, and your parents were paying for it so you could stay in touch with them, that means you're not poor enough. If you have nice shoes that you found at goodwill for $5, and they look brand new, you are definitely not poor enough. And if you still have the car you paid for in full right before you got laid off, you're not even close to poor enough. Suck it up. Get back up and find a minimum wage job, you lazy jerk. *sarcasm*

When did this attitude of "I don't want to help anyone but myself" flood into what is supposed to be the greatest country on earth? When did it become a bad thing for someone to pay a little extra so maybe their neighbor, the bagger at the grocery store, their grandma, their child's teacher, could actually not have to go bankrupt if they get in some sort of accident? What if, just...what if you found out you had cancer today, but you had no insurance? What if you were in that gap, the one between Medicaid and work insurance that is far too expensive to afford? What if you own your own business? Who will pay the hundreds of thousands of dollars to get you chemo and radiation? That's something no one should have to worry about. 

I guess as an atheist and a liberal (boom and boom) I see it as people shouldn't go without, no matter who they are. They should be able to afford to stay alive, they should be able to get help without judgment if they need it. 

And I am not sorry for saying this...but I am not lazy. I am not stupid. I am an intelligent person who works hard every day as a mom of a special needs kid to ensure my son stays safe, happy, and healthy. I meet every single need he has. So next time you want to call someone who doesn't technically work "lazy", think about that. Maybe they are like me, never sitting down because they have a child to chase around. 

Just think. Don't judge. 

Things you just can't predict.

When you decide to have kids, you imagine what life will be like, in the throes of newborn-hood, when they're toddlers, kids, teens...adults. You have this one specific image of what you want your kids to be like, and your life to be like. You think maybe it will be easier than people say it is. Maybe it'll be fun most times, maybe I'm freaking out for nothing. 

Then you get pregnant, and things start to change a little with the impending parenthood looming over your shoulders. You scramble to buy all the gear you think you'll need, you get unsolicited advice from strangers who may or may not have kids, and horror stories about birth. You choose to find out the sex, or maybe you don't. You think, "I'm going to buy this crib, and I'm going to make this my nursery theme, and I'm going to sing this lullaby to my baby. I'm going to dress him or her in these clothes, and I'm going to let them do certain things that other parents don't. I'm going to be successful in everything I think I want to do, because that's just how parenting is, isn't it?"

But then the baby comes, and it hits you...you were wrong. All that love you thought you'd feel? Multiply it by infinity and double it again...no, triple it. Quadruple?? All that baby gear you thought you would need? You need about 1/3 of it. The bassinet, the crib, the changing table, the wipe warmer and diaper genie...all optional. The bottles? Not always necessary. You realize sharing your bed is the only way to sleep because your infant has colic, or you realize crib sleeping is the only at to go because your child moves too much in their sleep. Maybe you have one who sleeps all night long, and you don't realize how lucky you are until the 4 month sleep regression. 

Then comes the older stages, and you start to bring your nearly toddler out more and more to hang out with kids his or her age. And you realize something...my kid is different. She doesn't say anything at all, no babbling of any kind...just silence. He's not affectionate at all, it's like he doesn't even know I'm his mom. He won't smile, she does this weird thing with her hands that looks like she's flapping her wings. His first word was "gravel". Her favorite thing to do is spin in a circle. And you call your kid's name, and they don't answer. They don't even know you're calling them. You get their hearing checked, but it's perfect. They sit down in their toy room and spin the wheels on their cars all day long, and you realize it's not normal. They throw these big long tantrum like things, trying to hurt themselves, or screaming at the top of their lungs with eyes shut tight for half an hour with no breaks. Their breathing is ragged and labored, and you are scared to death. Something in the pit of your stomach says "something isn't right", so you ask around, seeing what might be wrong. Did your kid do this at this age? Did I? What is normal and what isn't? Am I crazy? 

And at first, no one believes you. You get that crazy label like you dreaded...the label of "THAT mom". The mom who freaks out over seemingly "normal" toddler behavior. And when you post for the 10th time that day about how your kid won't eat corn because its "too bumpy", people tell you to force the issue, to keep them there until they finish their dinner, to spank them and make them behave because it's "bad". But you don't. And then someone comes along who tells you you were right all along. It might be the doctor, or a neighbor, or an online friend. It could be a group of people you never knew had this issue, because their kids seemed so "normal" to you. But they know. And you know. You're not alone, and you're not crazy.

So you do some research about developmental delays, and you find out your kid has some big red flags for autism. You bring him or her to the doctor and they say the kid is fine, developing normally. They don't seem concerned. And that's when it starts to get confusing. You question the validity of everyone else's point of view, how they see him, how normal their kids really are. You question whether or not you are crazy after all. But then you get someone else involved...Early Intervention. And they tell you they are concerned...and you believe them, because you are too. 

The evaluation happens, and you are let down a bit, but with the possibility of some answers later in the game. You spend the next 3 months wondering what will happen, doing your best to help your child catch up with kids his age. Then comes the next evaluation, and you finally get the answers you were looking for. 

You find out there is a big chance your child has autism. 

For some, it can be a really scary moment. Maybe you don't know much about it, maybe you know the wrong things. Or maybe it's not scary, but a relief. Maybe you know more about it than your average person, and it really helps because you knew it all along. Maybe you're in denial...maybe you're just jaded from it all. 

Maybe you're like me. Maybe the stress has been so overwhelming because you thought you were crazy to think this about your child, that the pseudo-diagnosis is comforting. It shows you you aren't crazy. It shows you that it's time to research therapies, and see what can be done to help your child reach their full potential. You enroll your child in speech, occupational therapy, physical therapy, behavioral therapy. All the therapies you can find. And you know what? It helps. It's not a huge, leap out of the water help, but it makes things easier to understand. 

I guess my point is that when you're pregnant, and before you have kids, you never really think about how life would be raising a special needs child. You don't think, "oh, my kid will have autism." Or "my kid will have Down syndrome." You think "my kid is going to be this and that, and that's it."

It might be a thought on the distant horizon, but it's not all you can think about until it happens and you're right in the trenches. 

To the moms of special needs kids of ANY kind: I salute you. I wrote this because my son is suspected to have autism and possibly sensory processing disorder (which of course sometimes goes hand in hand with autism). I love him BECAUSE he is who he is, because of his special needs. I never would have guessed he would be this amazing when I thought about having kids, he really surprised me. 

Thanks to all the parents who do this daily. You are my heroes. <3

Just one life.

A lot of people know I'm an atheist. And if you know me, you'll know that if you ever had any preconceived notions about how atheists are, they disappeared when you found out about me. 

The thing is, I can't talk about it. I mean, I could. But I'm just not that outspoken because as someone who faced major bullying in school, I'm not ok with people putting me down. I could stand up for myself but it's just not the place I'm in right now. I have to try and become stronger in how I retort arguments before I start talking about how much I dislike what organized religion does to people...to the world. 

I don't think many people who are not atheists realize the judgmental looks we get when we state we are atheists, or the disgust someone feels when we tell them sorry, but we don't attend church, thanks for the invite though. We are the least trusted group of people in the entire United States. People would rather have a president of a religion radically different than theirs instead of an atheist. In all actuality, we are just normal people. We are your neighbor, your new friend, your child's teacher, your mechanic. We are everywhere, and that's ok. A lot of us are more inclined to do good because we just want to, not because we have to. We are satisfied with the fact that this is all we have, this one life. Why? Because we get to live it with no regrets, to the absolute fullest. We go out with a bang. We are nice because it feels good, not because we are promised eternal life after death. 

So before you judge, do your research and go out and meet an atheist. Go out and meet a bunch. We are all different. What you learn may surprise you. 

Getting help for Jayce.

Looking back, I've always known something was a little off kilter. It's not like I thought to myself, "my son is just really different so I need to do this or that to get him diagnosed with something". No. More along the lines of OMG why is this happening? Why is he screaming his head off for up to an hour multiple times a day over what seems like nothing? Why does he have such a hard time transitioning, or eating any sort of food, or touching certain things? Why won't he look at me when I say his name? Why is this happening to my baby?

I was concerned for months, but I never thought to talk to anyone because I thought the doctor wouldn't take me seriously...that I would be laughed out of her office. I thought this was just him having high needs. I never once thought it would lead us on the path to an evaluation of his behaviors. But when he started hurting himself on purpose, it was time to go in. He still does all the time...he will smash his poor little head into the ground after throwing his head back and kicking his feet, trying to jump out of my arms. He will fall from a standing position like a tree and hit his head hard, then roll over on his front and do it again. He squeezes his eyes shut and drowns out the world around us. He loses all control.

Some people think I sound crazy or that I'm just making it up, or that his behaviors sound normal...but according to his doctor and counselor, they aren't. And my mommy gut feeling says they aren't either. So don't be that guy...the worst thing you can do to a person who is trying to get their child evaluated is tell them their kid seems normal. It makes us feel like we are crazy, that it's all in our heads. And trust me, that's not a good feeling.

A diagnosis is not reached because people want to "fix" their kids. It's reached and evaluated and studied because we love our kids SO much that we want them to have the absolute best life possible no matter what, so we find out what is causing their suffering and we ease their pain through therapies or other methods. It's not a pissing match when it comes down to the little ones we love the most. It's about the fact that there is something making the sweet little child who we love more than anything hurt inside...enough so that we, the big parents, have to step in and advocate for them. It hurts my heart every time I hold my sweet boy on my lap as he screams and thrashes and tries to hurt himself. A diagnosis would help me navigate a plan of action for him and make him feel happier and adjust better later on.

I see his perfect, tiny face...I look at those long, dark lashes framing his beautiful multicolored eyes, I see his little button nose, his sweet pursed lips, his tiny chin and chubby cheeks...and I see a little boy who deserves the best life I can give him. I don't see a little boy with a problem, he has the entire world to explore and I'm going to make sure he CAN explore it.

Poop. It happens to the best of us.

For all my fellow parents out there...this one's for you.

Poop. It's not just a word. It's not just a thing we all do. It's when the silence is cut with a butter knife; jagged, with all the edges poking out. It's the first thing that happens to your child before you can even get your coffee in the morning, and the last thing you expect them to do before you leave the house or after strapping them into their enigma of a carseat.

It's a contest of bravery. How much have you encountered at once? No blow outs, ever? Psh. It's the land you walk into armed with wipes and febreze. It's what's on your leg after you're done nursing and you realize that nice warm spot is actually not so nice after all. And much more wet than warm. *shudder*

It's what you get for going shopping without a spare outfit, it's why that baby over there is going home in just her diaper, and it's able to make us have a steel stomach.

We may not be real life heroes...but to each other, the one with the best poop story is victorious. Poop makes us winners...and losers. It brings us together and tears outfits apart. And most of all, it's the best part of our day after a long absence. ;)

For my son.

I love you. I love your chubby cheeks, and your fair, slightly curly hair. I love your pouty lips that stretch into the cutest 5-toothed smile I've ever laid eyes on. I love your little hands, and your little feet. I love your chubby legs and your little belly.

I love the way you crawl as fast as the speed of light, and your smile as you pitter-patter on your little feet while you walk to me. You're so very proud of yourself, and I am too. I love the silly things you say, and that your favorite words are no and kitty. You made my heart melt when you tried to say I love you today, and then kissed me with a big open mouth on the cheek. I love you when you curl up to fit perfectly in the nook of my arm, and you place your little hand peacefully over my heart while you dream. It takes my breath away that you are such a beautiful child.

I sacrificed my sleep, my time, my everything for you. But I would never trade it for a thing, except maybe to live it all over again. I would cuddle you even more, plant kisses on you until you wiped them all off and pushed me away, and chase you around the house on my hands and knees to wrangle you down for a diaper change. I'd do it ALL again, and then some. Don't forget, Jayce, you are my world. I love you. I always have, always will.

Dear Jayce

Dear Jayce,
Mommy loves you so much. From the day I found out about you, I loved you. You're my most special little man. You know, once upon a time, mommy wasn't this happy. But you helped me become the woman I am. Someday, I'll help you become the man you're going to be. And someday, you're going to have a baby who will teach you what life is all about. I promise you this my dear boy...
I promise to always love you and support you. I have your back even when you will make mistakes. I know you will, everyone does. But I will not love you less...in fact, I'll love you more.
I will protect you from harm. No one will get to you, because they will have to go through me (and daddy) first. We will never let a soul touch you that shouldn't. We will never allow people to bully you more than the first time. And we will both equip you with knowledge on how to deal with bullies, as well as listen if you have to deal with them.
I promise to listen to you if you are in need of my help. I promise that if you want to do things that I may not want you to, that I will still let you as long as they are not illegal or dangerous. I will help you develop safe habits and teach you about safe (consensual) sex. I will show you that forcing someone to have sex is wrong and that rape is extremely serious and should never be joked about or taken lightly.
Each night I promise to cuddle up close to you until you don't want me to anymore, whispering my promises to you and telling you over and over while you sleep the many ways in which I love and adore you.
You are my angel, my world. I promise.