Three Little Birds

Three Little Birds

I am anxious. Continually overthinking. Always worrying about everything and nothing. I find myself feeling on edge with nerves and sometimes I can’t even remember specifically what it was that was first troubling me. My brain becomes overwhelmed with a million and one different things.

 

My mum tells me I’ll worry myself into an early grave (I worry she might be right).

 

Being a parent – and being a parent to a child with disabilities more so – scares me at times. I’ve always been a worrier, but these days I worry so much more. Because I love both of my children so much. And when it comes to my son Brody, I feel a never ending loss of control over so many things.

 

From the outside looking in, it’s hard to understand. And from the inside looking out, it’s hard to explain. But these are a few of the things that invade my brain, mostly on the days where I struggle to keep swimming.

 

I Worry About Brody’s Continued Happiness

 

When I was growing up, I knew of a family who had a child the same age as me who had a learning disability. I was once told that when he reached adulthood, there was a time when he looked out of his living room window and watched the children outside playing. For a short time, he couldn’t understand why he wasn’t able to go out and play anymore.

 

On the days where I am consumed with overthinking Brody’s future, this story always comes back to me. I know now that he wasn’t as upset as I imagined. I suppose sometimes these types of scenarios are harder on parents. Because we just want to protect our children, who are vulnerable, from sad things happening. And sometimes we just can’t.

 

I worry about Brody’s feelings being hurt and not knowing or being able to comfort him.

 

More than anything, I want him to just be happy. Always.

 

I Worry About That Dreaded Word – Regression

 

Parents who have children with disabilities know not to take simple things for granted. We are continually reminded how precious health is, if not by our own children, then by our friends who walk similar paths.

 

Because Brody has an unknown syndrome and epilepsy, I worry that regression could rear its ugly head at any time.

 

Over the past 6 months, regression has hit us in terms of his mobility and not knowing why or how it will continue makes me uneasy. His left leg has become significantly weaker and is increasingly losing stability and muscle. When we meet with a specialist next month I will worry about the hospital results – or lack thereof…

 

I Worry About What He Can’t Tell Me & What I Might Miss

 

When your child can’t tell you what they want or how they feel – it’s a constant guessing game. You have to trust your gut (which often can be wrong) and rely on others to interpret their wants and needs when you’re not around.

 

I hate that he won’t be able to tell me how his day went at school. That I have to rely on a communication diary.

 

I worry about how frustrating it is for him not to be understood. How I would feel if I couldn’t talk – even if just for one day.

 

I worry the most when he is unwell and I just can’t figure out. Should I call a doctor? Should we take him to the hospital? Is this something serious? Or is it just a stomach ache or sore throat?

 

Brody has a high pain threshold and I worry that he might hurt himself and I would be none the wiser because he might not show it and can’t tell me.

 

It’s hard.

 

I Worry About Him Hurting Himself

 

I constantly worry about this. He has wobbly legs, poor balance and absolutely no danger awareness.

 

I’m scared that he’ll hurt himself the second we turn our backs or because we don’t react quickly enough (hello my good friend guilt).

 

Even a visit to a park puts me on edge, worrying that he’ll fall off of equipment when his dad and I are right beside him.

 

On a scale of helicopter parenting, you could say we’re Chinook.

 

I Worry About Inclusion and Access

 

Disabled people and their families are continually faced with barriers to inclusion because of a lack of accessibility. A lack of changing places toilets, gravel paths, no lifts, no ramps. The list is huge and affects so many people.

 

I worry about how these things will affect us every time we leave the house. And I know that as Brody gets older and heavier, these things will get increasingly more difficult for us as a family. He deserves better.

 

Sometimes the world sucks.

 

I Worry About Strangers (Of The Arsehole Variety)

 

I worry about how I will react when someone is ignorant towards Brody. Especially as he gets older and no longer passes as “cute”. There’s a fine line between anger and sadness and I teeter on the edge of going either way. I notice more and more as he gets older the stares from strangers, which aren’t accompanied by smiles. You know the ones when they’re looking just a bit longer than necessary?

 

He might make noises. He might become upset. He might try and innocently touch your leg as we walk by. We can’t predict his sensory issues or when and how they will affect him.

 

I worry about how you will treat him.

 

I Worry That Everything Is My Fault

 

Did I eat the wrong things when I was pregnant?

 

Did I have too many layers on him in his car seat as a baby?

 

Did we miss seizures?

 

Should I have knocked on more doors sooner?

 

Endless what ifs. And guilt.

 

I Worry About Outliving Brody & Brody Outliving Us.

 

The big one. The one I try not to think about, even though it’s always there and always will be.

 

I worry about us outliving our beautiful boy. Because he is primarily undiagnosed, sometimes thoughts of life limiting syndromes whirl around my head. I worry about SUDEP because he has epilepsy and night seizures. I worry about him hurting himself because he has no danger awareness. I worry about losing him because I love him so much.

 

And then I worry about Brody outliving us and leaving him on his own. Who that we know would actually put their hands up to care for him? Who would love him as much as we do and protect him from all of the world?

 

Someone once put it into the most depressing meme I have ever seen on Facebook. It looked a little like this…

 

The prayer of parent to a child with special needs is that we see our child live a long, happy life. And that we live just one more day

 

I am trying. Trying to worry less. Live each day as it comes. Because let’s face it, worrying changes nothing.

 

Ironically – my kids favourite song at the moment?

 

Bob Marley: “Don’t worry. ‘Bout a thing. ‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright”.

 

I shit you not.

 

Maybe they’re trying to tell me something.

 

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16 Comments

  1. Anonomouse
    July 21, 2017 / 4:28 pm

    your not alone

  2. Nathalie Lemer
    July 21, 2017 / 6:45 pm

    My worries for my 3,5-year old seem so unjustified in comparison to yours… Big hugs to you and your beautiful boy, and I really wish everything will be all right… xxx

    • July 21, 2017 / 11:06 pm

      I’m sure they’re not at all Nathalie. We all worry about our babies. Thanks so much. Hugs back xxx

  3. July 21, 2017 / 8:09 pm

    I feel your every word. I decided a while back that I was just going to have as many laughs as possible with my boy. It has made life that bit easier and joyful. They feel our pain and trust me, God has sent them to us to teach us, they are in safe hands ❤️

    • July 21, 2017 / 11:07 pm

      Thanks so much. That sounds like a good idea to me. Lots of love xx

  4. swanarchie07
    July 27, 2017 / 10:33 pm

    Wow you just wrote all my thoughts in a blog I try to write but just can’t seem to put it down anywhere thank you I am glad I am not on my own

  5. July 28, 2017 / 8:39 am

    OK Laura,late to the party on this one!Excellent as ever.A couple of years ago when Rab was suicidal and in and out of school and Pearl was-well giving me all the worries above -something related to this song happened.I have a Christian faith, although my relationship too it is ever more strange and nebulous and if I’m brave enough I’ll write a blog about it.I was exactly as you describe above, totally consumed by fear and walking alone to our local shops and praying vaguely “help God can’t do this help help”when I heard the first bars of three little birds very loudly in my head.Couldn’t work out what it was, it kept playing the first verse-still no connection, and then blasted the chorus!So if God did speak to me it was via Bob,which I think is rather rare and wonderful.This is why if I have a tatt it won’t be a jigsaw piece(!!!)but three little birds for the song, and my three little birds.Bit twee but helped me loads.Love the new page lay out btw and am slightly in awe of it too xxx

    • July 28, 2017 / 5:41 pm

      Oh Jane, I love that. And I love the tattoo idea too. Much more fitting that a jigsaw or swan even! I’ve not got a new page layout (that I know of – WordPress scares me!). Loads of love xx

  6. Faith Mwaura
    July 29, 2017 / 4:00 pm

    Hi Laura, thank you for this. Just shared your story from the mighty on a my new fb page “Hope Hub” with a link to your blog. It’s a page to offer stories of hope in life challenges. Also just stared a group that focuses on hope stories, testimonies and mindset shifting strategies for people undergoing challenges. …the vision is unfolding bit I feel like people like you are the tribe I gave been searching for.

    • July 31, 2017 / 8:16 pm

      Thanks so much Faith, that’s really kind of you. Sounds like a great page, will look out for it. xx

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