Nothing is Normal About Today

I spent this Thanksgiving in Baltimore, split from those I love. Instead I spent it with my son and with families that feel the same aching, haunting pain that I do.

We sit as strangers, yet we know each others stories better than our own relatives. For at today’s table, we are reminded of that, as our chairs remain vacant at the homes we have left behind.

As life continues stirring around us with no one really understanding what we feel.

Expect these strangers I celebrate with today; they do, they know exactly how heavy my heart feels, the loneliness in my soul, the painful ache in my bones, the deep scars my skin bears and the fleeing thoughts that constantly consume my mind.

We sit around the common tables, joined by those who at the present time seem to know our children better than us; and, in someway are maybe even more preferred.

Blue padded mats surround us, safety equipment within an arms reach and data sheets flood this Thanksgivings celebration. Nothing about this year is normal.

Yet my heart is so grateful.

I’m grateful that this place exists

I’m grateful for the meal that was so kindly prepared for us and grateful for the staff that care so deeply for our children.

I try to express this but I can’t get the words out. I’m choking back on my tears that are pooling in the back of my throat.

I’m thankful for the parents that I dine with this Thanksgiving, for we can offer a smile that you too are not alone.

As my son swipes that cookie off your plate, no judgement because we know something soon will happen from your… oh wait, yep the apple cider just got dumped all over the table from your child.

Nothing is normal about today

We walk the hallways and for the moment we are happy and I feel guilty because another family is in crisis. I share a look as to hopefully comfort them; as too say, “I know, believe me, I know.”

I enjoy the moments of dancing with my son, trying so hard to just live in the moment.

This is today’s normal, live in it, savor it.

There’s a moment when I stop as I see that he’s choosing the staff over me and I think, “Is this his life?

Would he be happier if he was always in a structured environment and we just came to visit?”

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in fixing or determining outcomes that I don’t face our reality.

What if this is our reality?

What if placement is our reality?

I hope I am getting to far ahead of myself and there are still many steps before that happens.

And just like that, our happiness, laughter and bouncing joy is stopped and dilated pupils, aggression, self injurious behavior has started.

Before I know he has me again, biting my hand and pinching my other. I am bleeding to where I must see the staff nurse.

The time has come for me to leave. By this time my son has calmed down enough to kiss and say goodbye and we part. I go to my locker, gather my belonging and it starts, the tears that I have been fighting all day.

I’m not sure what’s harder; seeing a photo of my husband and the other two children and missing them, leaving my other son or leaving bandaged and bloody?

Or is because it just not freaking fair! I think I’m a pretty positive person but sometimes I can’t, I just can’t.

All the perfect families photos on Facebook! Thankful for us…blah, blah, blah!!!!

What about the one that were robbed?

What about the ones whose families have been ripped apart?

What about your own families that don’t even know how badly you are suffering because they don’t even call to check on you?

You know how many times I hear, “oh momma you are so strong! Strong mom, you keep it up.” I didn’t know I was given a choice.

I didn’t realize that in mommy training I was able to decide, “hmm…strong mommy or weak mommy? Which one do I want to be? Check, I’m going to pick strong mom so sign me up for all the hard shit.”

No, I didn’t have a choice. I just do what was given to me, what I have to do to survive, to keep going.

You don’t give up

You don’t stop. You keep fighting, you keep moving. BUT that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell in the middle.

It doesn’t mean that some Thanksgivings, even if you’re grateful, aren’t going to hurt and be anything but normal.

I guess it’s about how we choose to let these experiences, these anything but normal Thanksgivings impact our lives. Do we grow from them? Do we help better the lives of those we sit with? Do we remain strong through the pain, fighting like hell for our families. Or do we fall apart, stay in the darkness and become weak?

The choice is ours. The pain is real and the truth is, it will always be.

We can’t run or hide from it and embracing it hurts too much. Reality is harsh in our world.

So, maybe we can find an even balance. Because we all know the famous “this too shall pass” does not apply in our world.

Written by, Christina Maulsby

From the author: My name is Christina Maulsby. After the past year of two failed inpatients and one intensive outpatient my son is in an Institute intensive inpatient unit in Baltimore. He was having approximately 400 self injurious behaviors a day and 25-30 aggressions towards others daily. He has been in Baltimore since October. He lives in Iowa. It’s been an overwhelming experience, filled with both gratitude and deep sadness. Writing is the only way I have found to cope with all the feelings I am experiencing.

Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our newsletter.