Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Move Along Move Along

My mom used to love that song "Move Along" by the All American Rejects.  She would always ask me to turn the volume up, and we used the phrases in a lot of our emails, just saying to each other, move along, move along.

Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
Move along
Move along

This is kind of what is like as a mom of a child with needs.  You have to be strong; you have to keep working, even when you wake up exhausted, your body aches, you couldn't sleep the night before, and you think of the day ahead.  You pull in the driveway and silently say a prayer.  You wake up and think maybe this is the day they talk.  Hope can be sparse and yet you LIVE on hope.  Hope to a special needs mom is a like a hit to a heroin addict.  We have to have it. Hope comes in small things.  Somedays it is a word, a sound, a compliment, an interaction, a great email, even for me, it is watching my own students grow. That is hope.

The truth is my life and my kids' lives are separate.  Eventually, their lives will not be so intertwined.  My heart will not break as it is was me for my sons' struggles.  I am doing EVERYTHING in my power to help them out and make their lives easier.  I did not do this to them on purpose. I had no control over this ridiculous disorder. I would easily take it from them instead of me, but I am doing my best to teach and show and prepare.  My mom wrote in the journal she left me about how difficult her childhood was, and how she had hoped my childhood would be spared any pain. I wish she was here so I could tell her that pain is growth; pain is change; pain is progress.  It is not fair- it hurt so much, but in so many ways, I am so much better off than my peers.  My kids are learning life lessons, not by my choices, but they are.

These kids with Apraxia are amazing.  I look at my students today, and today I worked with 5 kids with Autism.  They are simply amazing, and the progress is astounding.  Sometimes I look at the kids and tear up.  I am so proud of each of them. 

You have to keep moving along to get to the final chapter.  We all want to read it.  We want to know the ending, but it may be that unwrapping the present a little each day will be enough, will suffice.  At the end, I know I make every decision, not with my own interest in mind, but my children, and the pain I carry for them.  The hurt, the aches, I take them on, in hopes that their lives are easier than mine. That's what a mom does.  We hold onto hope and move along each day, as best we can.

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