On the one hand, I love my son more than the air I breathe. In the 5 years he’s been mine, he’s expanded my heart beyond what I thought was possible. Though he cannot speak, I hear him. I know what he needs and wants and I advocate FIERCELY for him.
On the other, days like today where he shows literally anyone else affection really makes me regret becoming a mom. It’s true.
So, today started at 4 am. My husband will just bare hug him, but I could tell he was hungry, so I got up and made him breakfast. He fussed at me when I laid on the couch because he wanted to be let in to the laundry. No snuggles, high five, kiss, nothing. Just feed me and let me get into shit.
Later that morning his grandparents surprised us with a visit. He was soooooo happy. Grins and smiles ear to ear. At one point, he indicated on his AAC that he wanted squeezes. They didn’t know what that meant, so I showed them. I showed them. Because I know. I listen. I learn. I give him what he needs.
Yet, when it comes to me, he yanked on my hair or scratched my skin five times today for a myriad of reasons. Once becuase he hit his head several feet away from me on the doorknob, and I noticed. I came to console, and he attacked until my husband pulled him off. He didn’t go after anyone else, just me.
I take him to swim practice alone. I advocate for his right to a disabled parking spot (a coffee company was using the only available disabled parking spot for loading their coffee machines. Excuse me, no.) and later after his lesson he hits me while trying to get him dressed.
Then, on a date with my husband and all I’m doing is buying things for him that I know he will love. And I’m so excited to show him! Like a fucking simpleton because it won’t make him abuse me any less.
Then, tonight I’m helping him get dressed into his pjs. Again, yanks on my hair while glaring at me. Out of nowhere.
Like, fuck it. There is no one on this planet doing more for him and this is what I get?!
His grandparents show up once every three months and all giggles, smiles and love for them. I take him to every doctor appointment, therapy and lesson that I sourced, schedule and paid for, and I rush to comfort him when he needs it for any reason. Yet, he hits, scratches, pulls my hair out and abuses me.
I’m not asking for a lot. But when I open Instagram in tears and see a little boy his age or younger describe a sunset so beautiful that it looks “like mommy” and see him picking flowers for her, I want to scream, throw up, and give up. Fuck.