Every now and then, there comes a day that packs such a wallop, all you can do is hunker down and wait for it to pass.
Parents know these days.
Special needs parents know these days really well.
Nirav had an astonishingly bad day, which alone doesn’t usually faze me.
But something about the suddenness of it all, the intensity of the upset and the many many hard conversations I had with his teachers. It just wore me down. I spent most of Wednesday, confused, angry and lost for words.
I’m sure my boy had it so much worse. He’s 15, taller than me, but still such a lost child at heart. An unwilling veteran at these upheavals, he still wakes up every morning with a smile, before something trips him up.
I want to make it easier for him. Even a smidge. And it is heartbreaking that sometimes, even with the best resources, I simply cannot.
I need to find the strength to be his scaffolding. To put down roots into this madness and hold him when he needs me to. To hold on to the dream of calmer seas and smoother sailing.
I need to believe, to evolve. So that when he clings to me, he’s met with implacable resilience and unending love.
Life can be cruel, mind numbingly so.
But I’m the mother.
And I will be damned if I give up.
