My son

I think I updated you all after Eli's surgery. He did so well and we were ready to go home 2 hours after getting to the hospital. I expected to noticed a significant difference in Eli, but we haven't seen a change yet. His teacher actually had to ask me if he had had the surgery. They were expecting the same thing. I guess I am getting a little fearful that the problem is deeper. I am afraid that Eli has a learning disability.

I have been on the verge of tears...and many times have been past that point since Friday. Evan and I still have not shared with his parents, his sister, and other family about Eli's hearing and speech delays. His brother and wife know as they live right next door. I think I blogged about this situation, but allow me to refresh. We enrolled Eli in preschool last May after seeking advice from the educational director at our church. She had seen other children with Eli"s similar delays catch up after being around other children. Evan and I decided to give Eli one semester to make an improvement. December came and we had not seen any improvement at all. In fact, we had had many discouragements along the way. Several moms came up to me and said they heard about Eli all the time from their child...my son had never mentioned one name or one child from his class...he could not speak to me. I'd cry every time but promised to give my son a chance. In October Evan's mother came for a visit. The morning she left she was waiting for me in my driveway as I was getting home from dropping Eli off at school. I saw that her car was sitting at the bottom of my driveway. I thought she must be in a big hurry because she had spent the night next door...why park her car there if she weren't ready to GO! We had spent 4 hours together the night before. She asked if I had noticed that Eli doesn't talk much...that in fact every time they came back to the states he was talking less. I looked at the car at the foot of the driveway and then at the little girl in my arms and I wondered why she wasn't snuggled in grandma's arms and I decided this was not the time or the circumstances to open my heart to my mother-in-law. She was halfway "out the door" and this situation deserved...care. I told her his teachers were aware of the problem and that they said he was doing fine. I offered nothing more. I was offended that she considered herself an expert on Eli's problem after 4 hours with him and the whole family. I dismissed it as best I could. About a month later..."it" hit the fan when I got a call from Eli's great grandmother concerned about Eli's speech progress. Another conversation with Eli's great Aunt confirmed my suspicions that the gossip had been lit like wildfire. I finally found out the contents of that gossip when my sister-in-law told me Eli's great grandma told her she was concerned for Eli because Evan and I were not getting him help. I was so so so hurt. I know that grandma had been fed this information... All these months of pain at my son being passed over by his younger peers and now his own family was whispering about him. My son, my baby has a problem and I felt like there was no safe place for him. Even his grandpa was ready to strike a gossip match when he tried to provoke information out of my sister-in-law by asking, "So what do you think of Eli's speech?". Why don't they ask me? I mean, ask me out of concern and give me the consideration and environment to answer! No one asks! I care more about giving Eli room to grow or fail than answering the rumors. We began the journey towards surgery in January...as we had planned. I heard the words, "Your son is partially deaf" and I felt a sucker punch. How could I have not known? His ENT doctor said it was as if Eli had been hearing as if he were under water...but for how long? No one really knows. He had fluid so thick behind his ear drums the doctor said he had no questions that Eli hadn't been able to hear most of what anyone was saying. How could I not have known?!

I felt peaceful during the surgery. His doctor had asked to pray over Eli before the surgery. I needed to know I was not alone. I needed to know that God saw my baby...that no matter what was going on in the family that my baby was a priority. Later that night Evan and I again talked about whether to tell his parents or not. Evan would like to address the rumors...what could it hurt. I just feel the onslaught of questions from the family and I don't feel like answering. I feel like the more information they have the more proof they'll have to think I am a sub par mother. I haven't been able to get passed feeling like I have failed my son. I can't get past the pain of never hearing my son tell me he loves me...or telling me about his friends at school. I can't help but tear up when I think of all the "Mommy loves yous" I have WHISPERED in his ears that he never heard. We are still very much in the middle of all of this. I don't need to be worrying about what is being said about my son. I cried...no I wept to Evan and begged him not to say anything yet. I cried that I didn't want anyone to say that my son was stupid (sorry, weeping does not allow for political correctness)!! I am still afraid that the delay goes much deeper. I can't offer up my precious boy to this family...known for their insensitivity. It just isn't a priority now to include people 1600 miles away. Eli's church family knows his struggles. I'd like to see Eli get past this "delay" and be able to communicate before we explain the process. I'd like Evan and I to be the only ones scrutinizing his progress with the speech therapist. Information is power...I feel like this information our lifeline as parents. What if Eli is learning disabled...don't we deserve the privacy to process that and deal with that in our own way as we help our son overcome?

I wanted to thank you all for praying for Eli today. The proceedure went lightening fast! In fact about 3 minutes after my last post they called me to the recovery room to wait for Eli to wake up. He took a little longer than usual to wake up but I guess that can happen when you share a room with your sister who rises with the sun!! He fussed a little after he woke up. Mommy was there with his Woody costume to make it all better. By the time we reached Toccoa he was role playing in the back with his toys. After getting some food into him the crankiness died down! He will have drops put in his ears twice a day (mom isn't looking forward to that:-() and will see the doctor until the tubes fall out. The doc said the fluid was really thick...totally explaining the hearing loss!! Glad this is over!!!

I have just witnessed what my son would be like if he were drunk! They gave him some medicine to knock him out and as it started working he just started to giggle and giggle!! He could even carry the weight of his head. He'd look up at me and tell me Woody was broken...a "Toy Story" thing...and I'd reply "Woody isn't broken!" And he would giggle some more.

I have to tell you I feel 100% better about the "strangers". Eli's doc came to talk with me and asked if he could pray for Eli before the surgery!!

God wrap your arms around my baby! Guide the doctor's hand and let my baby wake up able to hear clearly! Let this be the beginning of complete healing of his hearing problems!!

Eli's surgery

Tomorrow morning Eli will have tubes put in both of his ears. In a process begun last May, we have finally figured out why Eli has a speech delay. We took him to several doctors and discovered that he has fluid behind his ear drums. The doctor suspects he has had this fluid most if not all his life. Eli is essentially half deaf. This diagnosis answers so many questions. The surgery was scheduled very quickly.

We have had about a week to process the fact that Eli will have surgery. It is a very quick surgery without an IV. Eli will be ready to come home a few hours after we arrive at the hospital. I have still found myself a little hesitant. My baby boy...put to sleep...cutting in his ears...it all freaks me out. I am putting him in the hands of doctors...a man I met for the first time a week ago. One of my most valuable treasures put in the hands of a stranger. Why didn't I become a audiologist???

I guess this is one of those firsts. We've dealt with a little of this with Madeline's heart but never surgery. Watching my child be wheeled away from me might be one of the toughest moments of my life so far. Knowing I can't be beside him and hold his hand will torture me. Knowing I am not in control annoys me!!! I have also felt guilty for worrying so much about my son this week. I have gotten to the point of feeling very angry inside at people who would chastise me for worrying. I dropped Eli off at school this morning. One of the teachers mentioned she had heard Eli would be having surgery soon. I told her about his procedure and she mentioned her son had had the same thing done. I love to hear mothers say what a world of difference the tubes made in their children. I have even packed a book to read to Eli after he wakes up from the anesthesia...I want to see if he notices a difference. Anyway, she wished us luck and offered to pray. I thanked her and she mentioned how nervous she had been. Just the idea of surgery and anesthesia and that being her first experience as a mother and her child having surgery...it was enough to wrack your nerves. I was thankful for the reminder that I don't have to be solid as a rock all the time. Why do some Christians think it is helpful to shame others for worrying? I mean I know what the Bible says about worry. I know God takes care of it all. But is God not waiting there for me on the other side of my worry? Do they think I will get to trust faster if I am quilted into it? That isn't how I work. It feels like a hands off approach to relationship. Why not ask me why I am worried? Why not stop and pray for me there? For someone like me it NEVER helps to guilt me into things!!! I am stubborn. My stubbornness is a blessing, I feel. I don't sink into religion or trust...just because you tell me something "is" does not mean I believe you. I need to see or experience it on my own...so it is real to me. My stubbornness serves as endurance...I endure till I have answers. Because I have found what I was looking for...or What was looking for me, it is mine. I will never lose it because I have seen the truth. God found me this way. God has shown me so much truth this way. The end result was not polluted with other people it was just me and God. Isn't that as it should be. Not all people are like me, I respect that. Why would I want a bunch of identicals walking around? Why would God want everyone the same? Free will looks like God's biggest mistake but it was His great gift...maybe to Himself. What is more real: someone required to say they love you or someone who chooses and feels love for you? God has no time and no room for fakes. I am no longer a fake. I don't play a part. I am not all God wants me to be but there are parts of me that are solid...a foundation, if you will. God builds upon what is solid and sure.

Please pray for Eli tomorrow morning. The surgery is scheduled for 9:15am...another challenge will be dealing with my cranky child since he is not allowed to eat anything until after his surgery..

What chance have they now?

Some days...when I seem to fail the most or when I lose the control or patience I am reminded of the thought that has plagued me since my children were born. What chance have they now? As much as I wanted and begged God for children...why did he give them to me? I feel like the most unqualified person to be called "mommy" by these two people. I mean some can be good parents because they can scrape together some kind of attack plan from their own parents...I certainly don't have even that. Everyday we live together I feel like I am swimming up stream...I am desperately trying to keep one step ahead of the challenges of parenthood. I am learning everything for the first time. What does nurture look like? What does healthy discipline look like? Will my kids only remember the times I fail? Will they remember the times I lock myself in my room and cry because I got frustrated and raised my voice? Will they grow up to be afraid of me? What chance have they now? Wouldn't a better woman have been better suited for Eli and Madeline? How could I ever be the best they deserve? How?

Remembering and relearning...

I never noticed, until today, how much Rebecca reminds me of myself when I was at the beginning of this journey. I remember staring into the depths of pain and thinking there was no way...no possible way I would make it to the other side. I think I even prepared to hobble through life as half a person. There was just no way to overcome the past and become whole...whatever that meant.

There was a fight today between two people in my family. I will spare you the gory details but I saw some very interesting things. Rebecca felt attacked and like she was being ganged up on by everyone she lived with and even by people on the Quinn side. It wasn't really what was happening but in her reality...she was deep in a battle for...everything. She reacted in great anger. She used words to hurt the one who had hurt her. Words I have never heard from her and I hope I never do again. I sat back and had to search where this anger could have been coming from...but I didn't have to look very far. What had Rebecca always seen and heard when my mother became angry? My mother knew exactly what to say or do to hurt her children. Every parent has this ability, this power. It is a very serious and enormous power not to be taken for granted. Love, I mean real honest-to-goodness love does not allow us to use this power to hurt. My husband and I have this power over each other. I know what to say that could crush him as a man and he knows what can rip me apart...but we never do or say these things. Our love for each other means that we would hurt if the other were hurting. That hurt would be deeper if one of us was the cause. Evan has my heart and I have his. We are safe with each other because we are in love. We disagree but never cross the boundary into abuse. We are the same with our children. It has never crossed my mind to call my children names or tell them things like, "You aren't a part of my family", etc. I hold their hearts and their souls in the palm of my hand...as their mother, I am in love with them. Their hearts are precious to me and their souls are my privilege to mold...it isn't possible for me to break these things so close and precious to me. Frustration is not the same as hate and neither is anger. Love serves as a protective barrier...and thank you God for that!! Anyway, my mother could never see past herself. I don't believe she ever had the experience of love for her children. I am sure she had a fondness for us at times but love is too selfless in parts and she could not offer that of herself. Rebecca mirrored all that she had ever experienced. She lashed out with words as sharp as swords to hurt the other person. That is the only way she knows to act when she becomes angry. How could she know otherwise? (Scary how our reactions to things will be memorized by our children...yikes!) As the day progressed more and more people got involved and Rebecca felt as if she were sinking into a thick pool of tar. What do we do as children when we think or know we are in trouble? We panic, we prepare for the worst possible outcome. We run in every direction. We try to hide. We go numb. We cry. We avoid confrontation at all costs...ANY PRICE IS WORTH NOT HAVING TO FACE IT!! Rebecca acted no differently. She cried, she wanted to run away, she even mentioned suicide, and she ran and hid from everyone in the house. She hasn't had a chance to learn unconditional love. Se doesn't understand how a family works. She has never even witness conflict resolution or a healthy argument...doesn't even know that those things exist. What she would have paid, literally, to make it all go away! I told her to stay where she was... I didn't know what else to say. She had found a safe hiding place and if it gave her a sense of safety, let it be. I used to run and hide in any closet whenever my mother might be looking for me. She might send another child to look for me but I would hide and devour those extra minutes before my body would be bruised. It made no logical sense to hide...where could she believe I had gone? I needed to feel like I had some control over my fate...however unrealistic it was. I told Rebecca that it would be alright. When this argument was sorted out she would feel closer to her family and may even be thankful for this day. She is not yet secure with her place in either family. Any shifts in her life and she reacts as if someone pushed a fire alarm..."I need to find a way out or I will die!" Reminds me of myself to a "T"! It pains me to see first hand how an abusive childhood literally strips away pieces of the truth. It leaves behind a broken down human trying to keep up with a world that does not understand them and therefore has no patience for their incompetence when it comes to living, laughing, and relating. How can you "speak the language" if you grew up in another country?

Today doesn't count

I am praying today is erased from my children's memories. Eli was up at 4am and continued in his stage of sneaking into our bed. Only this morning he didn't feel like sleeping. I have always been someone who needs sleep. If I don't get it...watch out. I lose all patience and I can't seem to function. Eli was still awake at 6am. He had decided to back into his own bedroom but decided it was playtime. I had been in there twice before. Finally I burst out of bed and stomped into their room. I whispered loudly for him to get back into bed and it was bed time. He started crying out, "No, No, NO!!" Maddie started to stir and I was about to lose it. I could never make it through a day if they both decided to wake up now!! I put my hand over his mouth and told him to "Shut up". All the sudden, like a thunder clap, I saw an outline of my mother's face. My outburst caused him no physical harm...I actually don't spank Eli. Evan does that in the rare occurrences that he needs it. I never raise a hand to my children...but in my exhaustion I lost control of my self control. I stood there in the middle of their room...both of my children crying, each for different reasons. I knelt by my son and held back my own tears and I told my son Mommy was sorry and he needed to go to sleep. I found Madeline's pacie and handed it to her. Thankfully she laid down to fall back asleep. It feels like I have fallen off the wagon. I have instances where I raise my voice or just have outbursts of frustration. I usually remove myself...even lock myself in my room until I can calm down. I know how I get when I am tired like that...why did I go into his room? I should know better. I hate what I did. I hate those glimpses of what I am capable of...I hate it!! That is why I choose not to spank our kids. I give the timeouts and I count to 3...but I don't put my hands on my children out of anger or frustration. A mother's hands are meant for love and nurturing. I feel like today my hands are messengers of anger and fear. I know everyone fails as parents...do they fail this badly?

I had a chance yesterday to decompress and debrief from my PA trip with a very special lady. I know she reads these so I won't mention her name so not to cast light where it might not be wanted...but she knows who she is. I have wondered if I will ever get the chance to repay her for her dedication to women like me. I wonder if I will ever be as giving as she. As much as I have lost...a mother who loves me, a mother who looks fondly at me so proud of what I have become, a mother who holds a shot of me with a big pregnant belly in her mind and sighs with a smile...I have found these things in this woman. So confident am I in our bond that I know she remembers me when I am not there...as a good mother would. She made some time for me yesterday afternoon. How relieving it is to be with someone who speaks "abuse". I can begin a conversation and not have to explain my background or why I am the way I am. We begin on that foundation and talk for hours. She remembers me 10 years ago... It must have been easier to relate to a brick wall than it was to get through to me. She pursued me and told me yesterday that it was because she could see I was making choices to try to make my life better than it was. I will have to take her word for that!! I sat in her living room for 2 months and cried like I had never cried before but I never spoke a single word. I once became suspicious that she hid some kind of chemical in the threshold of her door that sank into my tear ducts and made me release these tears involuntarily...no woman could possibly cry as much as I did. I still think she has a graveyard behind her house for all the masks and outer shells that all the women that have gone through her living room have left behind. I still think back to the person I was and I feel like I must have blocked out the moment I removed my "wounded Ashley" suit and left it on her living room floor. Keep it and bury it deep!

We of course talked about my children! I still am feisty when I remember my mother calling my children brats...or they must be brats because they are mine. It just gets under my skin. I talked it over with Evan and I realized my mother never understood children. She never understood me as a little girl, a teenager, or a woman. Our world was faced in her direction. Everything we did, everything we said, everything we planned had to have its strings tied to my mother...she pulled those strings that ran everything. My mother could never ask for help...her own issues of course. Even having a child...she did it on her own (hence the "no drugs" fiasco I have mentioned before). I don't know if she read any parenting books or did any research...I did but I am just that kind of person. I don't like to be caught off guard! All I can say is that she never let the love a mother feels...she never let it in, she never let it take her over. The love of a man is powerful in it's own way and beautiful just the same. The love we feel when those wrinkly bodies first emerge...or in my case, when that cry first pierces the delivery room...everything else is drowned out by the voice of your child. That is love at first sight...I can say that I loved my children before I ever saw their faces. That kind of love is powerful and so so so physical that you can feel it. It is very rare you will see a woman who has just given birth have dry eyes. Love like between a mother and her child is so physical and she can't help but express what she is feeling the way women do best...with tears. I wonder if my mother never let that love in. Did she feel that burst in her body when she knew life would never be the same...did she ever feel like life began when I came into the world. Probably not. What a shame...I have always felt a little more blessed to be the mother. I get to grow the babies and give my body to them for 9 months. I get to nurture them from the moment their souls are woven together. What an amazing, priceless treasure we have as mothers. My mother missed it...she missed out on the most inexpensive gift in such a huge package. My brother was born a whole 3 years after me. In that 3 years she never took the chance to know me. When my brother came I must have been jealous. She'd leave the room and all the sudden he would start crying. Who knows what I must have done to him. What she missed was the natural occurrence there. All children feel misplaced when a new baby comes into the house. Instead of helping me through the transition she chastised me. She saw my jealousy as a personality trait for the rest of my life. Every time I took the larger portion or picked on my brother I received a reminder that I have always been a nasty girl. I used to con other kids into giving me things...well, I only remember this happening once but if you go by my mother...I hope you don't...I have always been able to manipulate and con the pants off anyone. Ahhh, and there it is...the planting of my view of my character any time I get something that I want at the supposed expense of another. My how our mother's words travel with us till we DIE!!! I wonder what I would have become if my mother didn't always see the "dirty" side of me? What if she had nurtured my jealousy...would I have learned to cope through life's ups and down, would I be more secure in relationships...her way of dealing with me was obviously a pattern. What if she had nurtured my supposed conning of other people? Would there have been a saleswoman in me...we may never know. I can see parts of my children's person coming through. Eli is a thoughtful little boy. He often comes up to me during his playing just to give me a kiss or to get a kiss. The other day I asked him to share a handful of his cheerios with Maddie. He did and she ate them gratefully. A few minutes later I watched as he got another handful and placed the cheerios in the same place for Maddie to eat...without being asked. What a precious moment for a mother to witness. I told him what a sweet brother he was...I think he likes hearing that. Of course 10 minutes later I saw him smack Maddie when she touched the toy he was playing with. Why should his hitting her overshadow what he had done 10 minutes before out of the goodness inside of him? The truth is, all kids get jealous, all kids hit, all kids are bad some of the time. I honestly think my mother found a new way to be the victim when she could tell other people that I was a "brat"...if I did something wrong and everyone one was there to see it she could claim that I had always been that way. I can see a lot of myself in my Maddie. She has a temper and will push her brother away if he is on my lap when she is there or wants to be there. We simply compromise. I have two legs! Eli eventually gets bored and gets off my lap...but my Maddie likes to cuddle. As independent as she is (presently I am having to find new things to feed her because she refuses to be fed, she wants to do it herself!) she still needs mommy and only mommy after about 7pm. She'll lay her head on my shoulder and I can't help but think...this is my daughter. This is the little girl who will get her heart broken, get married, have babies and (hopefully) miss me when I am gone...how am I ever going to get her there as the women she was meant to be? How am I ever going to be the mother she needs for the rest of her life? How can I ever be the mother she'll need to sustain her after I die until we see each other in Heaven? How can I, being the person that I am, ever be that important to these two people? I guess for now, I am the shoulder that calms her before she goes to sleep and when she falls down. Will it always be that easy? Probably not. I just hope today doesn't count!!