A Gift from God

Someone once told me that “it's like being slowly pecked to death by chickens.” I must agree.That's the best description I've heard so far. Slowly. Pecked. To Death. By Chickens.

Yep, that's what it feels like to raise a child with F.A.S.D. That is the ugly truth, although it isn't all ugly, but at times it feels like that's all there is: ugliness.

“It's an ugly job, but somebody's got to do it.” I guess so, or Rather, I actually prefer to think that this is my job given to me for a specific purpose because God knew I would do a good job with it. When it comes to things like this, I have to believe that. I have to believe that it's no accident that I'm raising a son with F.A.S.D. I have to believe that it's part of God's plan for me, part of the work He wants me to do. I have to believe that my son with F.A.S.D. is indeed a gift from God. And that is what makes all the difference.

Being a mom...it's a full time job,

Being a mom of a child on the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum...it's TWO+ full time jobs.

I am not by any means trying to diminish the demands of a moms of neuro typical kids. I know they have a lot of demands. I have experienced both: being a mom of neuro typical kids AND being a mom of a child on the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum.

There is a GREAT, BIG, HUGE difference. And this is what I have realized...

For moms of kids on the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum:

It's draining.

It's stressful.
It's depressing.

It demands continual grieving.

It takes everything out of you and wrings it out, chews it up, and spits it out, and then, just when you think that there is nothing left to take out of you, it takes more out of you. 

A tantrum. No, I've experienced tantrums three different times with three different children. This is much worse than a tantrum. This is so much more. But for so many years I didn't know what it was. Not knowing. I think that was the hardest part.

Kicking. Screaming. Throwing things. Pushing furniture over. Running out the window. Running away. Breaking my nose. Breaking the oven door. Destroying the walls, the furniture, the house, the vehicles...destroying our lives. Destruction. That is a good word for it.

Yes, often it feels like he is destroying everything, even our lives. And I begin to envy “normal”. I begin to envy those around me who have “normal” lives. Now I know that one could argue “what's normal? No one has a normal life!” WRONG. Neuro typical children live neuro typical NORMAL lives and it is DIFFERENT than living a life as a child with F.A.S.D.! That is fact.

And yes I have been very envious of “normal.” And quite often “normal” looks like a vacation, a breeze, so easy. Yet, I can't even go to “normal” for a vacation. I never get “normal” with this child. And that's when things get really bad...when I get stuck in my envy...and get stuck wanting “normal” so badly; because no matter how hard I try I will NEVER have “normal” with this son. Hence, the need for continual grieving. I have to grieve the loss of “normal”. This is a real thing, a real loss, that must be grieved. I must take time to grieve.

And then I must cherish what my son is.

I must find his strengths.

I must find the strength to be positive, to be grateful for his strengths. To build him up, to praise him for the beautiful child that he truly is.

And that is when I begin to do the work God has for me to do...when I leave envy, and compassion becomes my motivation, then I am able to do the work God wants me to do.

My son teaches me...patience, compassion, understanding...more patience...he makes me a non-judgmental person, he makes me love unconditionally, he makes me a better person.

And my other children...my neuro typical children...they are stronger for having grown up with him. They are stronger in ways that they don't even realize yet. They are stronger, non- judgmental, full of compassion, and more understanding because of him.