Here is one of those posts that I cry as I write because I really do feel like the worst mother in the world. I feel like I should bookend every line with "of course I love them immensely". But this blog is not about the reassurances, it's about being honest (to a fault sometimes).
Here is the thing, when it comes to my kids having special needs: I don't feel lucky. I haven't had that great life lesson. I don't wish they were exactly the same. I accept them and love them the way they are. But oh how I wish I could take this burden from them.
And yes, I realize it could be much worse. And that they have gotten much better. Those facts though are of little comfort when they are both screaming in the car for an hour straight; when they are throwing fits in public and everyone is staring; when my daughter struggles to play with toys.
I've written before how we are just outside of normal. And I think that is what makes watching the girls grow up all the more bittersweet for me. I see how close they are to not having to struggle and see how close I am to not having had this stress of keeping all the balls in the air. Maybe it's a convenient excuse, but I can't help but wonder how different of a mom I would be if we didn't have these challenges.
Our burden, compared to so many, is small. And I can see the light at the end of the tunnel of these things being gone from our lives. But still, I don't feel lucky. I don't feel lucky at all.