Not My First Panic About My Qualifications for Special Needs Motherhood

Sometimes I look back on my day and am overwhelmed by how unprepared I am to deal with the challenges in my life. With a little help from my friends I manage in the moment, but later I think, "This is my life? How am I ever going to deal with this?" And then I panic over repercussions and possible diagnoses and why hasn't the flipping OT's office called us back yet?

And then I think that "doing great compared to (how he could be/other kids like him/other special needs kids)" doesn't really matter, because as great as this kiddo is doing, I am just not prepared in so many ways to handle being his mom. His "special needs" mom. And the love doesn't crowd out the terror like I'd hope it would. In some ways it makes it worse.

Of course it's driving me crazy that I haven't heard from the therapists I'm counting on to educate me and him on how we manage some of the strangeness that goes on here. And that the school hasn't given me any more info on whether he'll be placed with an ILC in kindergarten in the fall. And that the bishop hasn't responded to my request for help and counsel in beginning research on adoption.

I can't blame the school, because it's early days yet, but I think I can blame the bishop and the OT for totally dropping the ball - the former because of common courtesy (and the fact that I've seen him face to face a few times since sending the email), and the latter because they specifically said they'd get back to us the next week . . . two weeks ago.

Reading this you're probably as sure as I am that I'm crazy to even think of adopting when I'm on such unstable footing with parenting my oldest. But you'd also have to consider the joys and blessings of parenting, and that I already parent another child alongside my boy. I know it's possible. I love being mother to both of my children. It is a blessing even when they rarely say, "I love you," or express any gratitude or affection. It is food for the soul to watch them grow and learn and finally grasp things that will make their lives better. Occasionally it even feels like an accomplishment to have survived a horror of a day when the poo and the whining and the tantrums and the fighting and the mess and the mischief have completely flooded my emotional ballast - it's a win just to get to the end of it for a night. Or even a couple of hours before they wake up with more of the same.

So wanting other kids is clearly some kind of addiction to toddler hugs or just a psychological disorder resulting from the effects of pregnancy on the brain. It's got to be one of those, and either way, I have it.

But with more kids comes more of that dependence that has by brain wrecking itself into the inside of my skull when people from whom I need help drop the ball. I am blessed to have friends and family who are with me (physically, emotionally, or however they can be) whenever I need it. But sometimes I need experts and people in power and spiritual leaders to give me a minute. Forgive me for feeling entitled, but I think I AM entitled to a call back from the OT's office after the 25-page report we filled out for them. I even went through and revised most of the glib responses the original form-filler had typed. And I really do think a spiritual leader should be counted on to at least send a one-line response to confirm receipt of an email from a member of his flock. Right? Within a few days rather than weeks? Especially when that guy in particular is well versed in the subject of inquiry? I'm trying a heavy dose of the benefit of the doubt there, since (a) there's nothing I can do about it and (b) I prefer to assume that someone is just taking a super long time to compose a very thorough, thoughtful, and useful email than that they don't give a poo about me, whether it's true or not.

Really, though, the OT's office can and will be replaced. I think there's someone in the greater metro area who does OT and can be relied upon for something as simple as a call back. Or maybe the world is just a much crappier place than I thought it was. Or maybe they have the worst receptionist ever.

All in all, I'm stalled. I'm frustrated with the amount of time it's taking to get the help I need to move forward with the things that are important to me. I look back on today and I'm fairly pleased that I handled the disasters of the day as well as I did. And I look forward to tomorrow horrified that I might have to do it again. And again. Forever.

Pablo Picasso Designed My Reproductive Organs

I had an ultrasound today to check for a cyst on Lefty, my left ovary. Ultrasounds generally aren't very exciting when there's not a baby in there, but this one was particularly fun. On various imaging tests, pelvic exams, and other doctor visits, I've been told a number of interesting things about my uterus and ovaries, but this one managed to cover them all with a fun (non-baby, GOSH) surprise in store.

First, the standard noting of fluid behind my uterus. For no reason. And it pisses me off because that's an ounce or two of body weight that's really doing nothing for me. At least my body fat will keep me going for a while without food in the case of a zombie/nuclear/superflu/other apocalypse.

Second, my friendly U/S tech reminded me that my uterus is, in fact, tilted backward. Like it was installed wrong or something.

Third, my crazy PCOS ovaries are sitting in there slightly enlarged and covered in googly eyes (okay, follicles) instead of having a few key ones competing for the great monthly baby attempt (i.e. they are trying to become a baby - I'm not trying to have one).

Fourth, she also asked me if I've ever been told my uterus has a septum (and yes of course I have - like eighty people have seen the inside of my uterus). It's like having a widow's peak, except instead of hair making your face look heart shaped, it's a piece of uterus making my oven look like the letter Y.

And just when I thought I knew everything about my wonky pelvic contents, she found something new that's "not supposed to be there." Apparently Lefty doesn't have a cyst at all, but is sitting next to a bunch of weirdy blood vessels. Way to go, random-left-side-of-my-uterus veins! You've put the icing on the most disgusting cake ever!

Except my uterus is way more messed up than this one.