"God knew you needed a Catie"

Oh therapy, how I love thee.

Well...this is not entirely true, but how I need thee....at least right now.  Perspective is everything.

Parenting children with special needs is tough work.  Take the responsibilities of your average child, and multiply that by three, at least.  Triple the doctors visits and add to that specialists, surgeries, therapies, tests, and more tests.

Before he turned three Augie had been under anesthesia three times.  Twice for MRIs and once for plastic surgery related to an accident.  Catie, now two and a half, just had her third surgery.  All three directly related to maternal drug use.

We practically know every OT, ST and PT in town.  And are well on our way to understanding the multiple levels of services from early intervention to the inner workings of the intermediate unit.

Would this be my life if I had birthed a child with special needs?  Absolutely.  But this is the life I choose....or rather, the life that choose me.  When Augie was placed with us there were no special needs identified.  We knew he was at risk of mental health issues (aren't we all?).  Since his placement we have been on a wild goose hunt to figure out exactly what is going on in his little mind & body.  Two steps forward, one step back.  He recently re-qualified for services through our IU.  Now we have to figure out whether to enroll him in preschool at age 3 to get him the services he needs.

Catie...we knew.  I feel in love and all the discussion about what we were open to accepting went out the window for love of her.

In discussion with Dr D I confessed I struggled with compassion...before even having children.  His immediate response was "God must have known you needed a Catie."

The paperwork, the appointments, the surgeries, the CONSTANT flow of therapists in and out of my house...it is a lot.  It is tough.  And then there are my children.  The comprehension issues, the speech issues, the attention issues, the behavior issues, the eating issues...they all bring out my crazy.

But then.  Then, there are my children.  The ones whom I so rarely get to step back and see with perspective.  These beautiful little souls that God sent into my life for very distinct purposes.  If they were not bringing out my crazy, my crazy would not be in the process of being healed.  It takes everything inside of me and step back to see them as God sees them.  I fail in doing this every single day.  And yet, God trusts me.  God believes in me.  He sent these poor, needy, struggling, abused little people to a mama who would love them until she had nothing left of herself.  I confessed to a friend that I am not myself during the stressful times.  I am not the person I thought I was.  I am certainly not the mom I thought I would be.  And every day I pick up my broken self and carry on, giving them everything I have within me.  Making the calls, the appointments, scheduling the therapists, the surgeries.  Trying to understand their special needs.  Trying to overcome my inadequacies and frustrations.

And this is the life God choose for me.  Because He knew I needed this.  I needed them.  Heaven ain't for those who just believe.  This is my Mother Theresa journey.  This is my Calcutta.   And I cling to the hope that saints are just the sinners that fall down and get back up.