Motherhood: Faith v Failure

When confronted with obstacles, some will tell you to be optimistic and to find the silver lining, or to look at the glass as half full. Some may say this is only a season, and to praise God during the difficult time. But what if there is no foreseeable end? Instead, the season is lifelong.
I have been in a constant battle with my faith since Ethan was one year old. It is something I have prayed about relentlessly. Some days I do feel God's favor and I know that I am blessed. I feel His love and strength inside of me, and, by His grace, I'm able to push through another day. However, with every blessing comes another hurdle. Some of our hurdles haven't felt like hurdles at all- more like roadblocks and dead ends. There is nothing like feeling helpless and having no control of your child's health or well-being. I know this feeling as failure. I fight every day to conquer it and replace that feeling with faith.
Let me start from the beginning of my motherhood journey...

Some memories are not distant. No matter how long ago they were.
I so clearly remember the day Ethan was conceived. I told my husband that I was pregnant literally one minute after the egg was fertilized. Surely, he didn't take me seriously... There was no way I could truly know and being that I had never been pregnant, I had absolutely no idea what it felt like or how soon I would feel him/her. But, somehow, I was sure. It was November 21st, 2010 and I knew we were going to have a baby and that our lives would change forever.

First breath of faith.
I didn't mention it again, but thought of a million creative ways to tell him once I was far enough along to prove the pregnancy with an at home test. So, a few weeks later, I told him we should open a couple Christmas gifts early since we wouldn't be able to take them to Jamaica with us. He opened one of his and below it was an additional gift... A onesie that read "My dad..." Ok, I can't remember the rest of the words, but it was definitely something sweet or witty.
He looked at me and in his eyes I saw happiness, excitement, some nervousness, and pure joy. We were going to be parents and, with great faith, did not experience any worry.

First stab of failure.
From week six to week twenty, I lost about 20 pounds. I could barely keep a prenatal vitamin down. Another not so distant memory, but much less pleasant. I had no idea my pregnancy would be so traumatic. I was sick. No appetite, no energy, just plain ol' hugging the toilet sick.  Every day I would wake up and wonder how I would get through the day with a baby the size of a kidney bean causing me to vomit every hour on the hour, like clockwork. I constantly questioned if my child was getting enough nutrients and if my sickness/sadness was affecting him. My son wasn't even born yet and I felt like I was failing him.

Renewed faith.
Somehow I made it through the sickness. And with God's mercy, only took off one day of work (I had to because I threw up in the car while driving there). After week 20, I finally got to experience the "pregnancy glow." And although I had lost so much weight, Ethan was above average in size. He spared no nutrients for mommy, but I didn't care; my baby was healthy and I could finally eat again. At that point, the two were basically equal in value lol.
His father and I signed up for hypno-birthing classes (focusing on a natural birth, not at all associated with being hypnotized), set up the nursery, bought every book on caring for a baby through pregnancy and beyond, had our baby shower, visited the natural birthing unit, and patiently awaited our baby boy.
I had an "easy" birth. After about 5 hours of labor, including 20 minutes of pushing, we welcomed an 8lb 9oz baby Ethan to the world.
I nursed him for a year, bought him all organic baby food, chose a nanny over daycare, and did everything "right." I was on track to having the most loving, smartest, and healthiest baby.

Failure takes the lead.
Around 18months, Ethan had finally learned to walk on his own. Listening to my intuition and being the oldest grandchild of 10 (self-proclaimed expert of all things baby), I was sure that Ethan had some developmental delays.  I remember telling his dad, for the second time, that I was concerned about his development and wanted to get him tested. His dad and I divorced a few months earlier and we were in a bad place - to say the least. He told me that he did not believe Ethan was delayed and if I wanted to get him tested, I would have to take him and do any follow up appointments on my own. I felt completely alone and worry took over my life. A failed marriage, failing in coparenting, and concern about my son's health took a toll on my faith.
(Disclaimer: We were both first time parents and I don't think his father was prepared emotionally for any type of health issues with his son. He went through a long period of denial. Eventually, he did come to terms with Ethan's challenges and we currently have a great coparenting relationship - focusing always on Ethan's best interest)

3 1/2 years old

Failure wins again. Time and time again.

• It took two years to get a diagnosis. I took Ethan to multiple specialists the first year. He was difficult to diagnose because he was high functioning in some areas, while delayed in others. I went to every appointment alone and I pushed and pushed for therapy. (Basically, you have to be a certain number of months delayed before you're offered services and Ethan was not "far enough behind." This was ridiculous to me because I knew that it would be most beneficial to start the therapy as early as possible - at this point, he was around three years old). Finally, even without a diagnosis, Ethan was given speech and physical therapy a couple times a week. (During this time, I believe his dad was leaving the denial phase and moving to acceptance. He began coming to appointments and we alternated taking him to therapy).  A year later, we received the diagnosis of low-spectrum autism. Although I yearned for a diagnosis because I knew that it would give me guidelines and therapies on how to best treat/teach my child, my heart still managed to drop. I failed him. He was not "normal."
• Behind the smiling face I gave the world was a sad, daily pity party. I didn't understand how this happened when I did everything "right." A billion questions ran/run through my mind every day. Was it my fault? I didn't have an epidural, but I did get him vaccinated (although I seriously questioned it). Were the vaccines the cause? Or did it happen in my womb? Was it my egg? Was it his dad's fault? Who was to blame? The questions are never ending and so are the tears. I cry as I write this because although I have a billion questions, I have zero answers. All I can think is that my body failed me.
• Why me? I knew mothers who smoked cigarettes during their pregnancies and their babies were born perfectly healthy. They didn't breastfeed, they didn't binge on reading books about pregnancy health and caring for babies. They never even heard of tummy time. Without realizing it, I was judging others. That was not me. That was my pain. That was my failure.
• There were times when people would brag about their kids because they were proud. I would congratulate them and smile. But deep deep down, I didn't want to hear it. I could only compare. Your child is at a 3rd grade reading level and I'm still teaching mine phonics. I was that child. I was the child in AP classes, winning awards, reading beyond my grade level, etc. And I would've been that bragging parent. But I can't be. That's not the child I was given. I am a teacher failing at teaching her own child.
• There is no way to describe the way you are humbled when you have to give a disclaimer for your child. Before basketball season, I send out an email to all parents explaining that Ethan loves basketball, but some skills will be difficult for him. When joining a new school/class, I am again sending an email to make them aware of his challenges as a student. The list goes on. Although the coach/parents/teacher all seem to be understanding, I'm sure there is a feeling of, "thank God my kid doesn't have those issues" or "I don't want to be bothered with a child/student with any disabilities." I wonder if they look at him and hug their child tighter at night because they're grateful that he/she is "normal." It's ironic that I have experienced that feeling of gratefulness too. Between all of Ethan's appointments over the years, I've seen a very wide range of disabilities. And sad to say, there have been times where I've compared them. The point of this therapeutic post is to be honest right? It's disappointing that I have looked at Ethan and thought, "Well, these challenges could be much worse. He could be antisocial or nonverbal." In those instances, I have failed all other parents of children with disabilities.
• All of these "failures" affect me daily. Every single day, I have to consider some type of challenge Ethan will face or may face some day. It may be as small as wondering if the kids in his class accept/understand him, or as big as possibly going to court with the school district for not accurately establishing certain eligibilities. Some days... it's... it's just... overwhelming. I am grateful for so much, but there are times I feel out of God's favor. I feel that somehow, somewhere in life, I've failed Him.

Faith steps in. 

• I've been blessed to meet every obstacle head on with the resources God has placed in my life.  When we received the diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), I was so happy to finally receive the appropriate therapies. Imagine how I felt when I found out that my insurance didn't cover ASD therapy (neither did his dad's). Without skipping a beat, Ethan's stepmom called her insurance to see if ASD was covered under her plan... and THANK GOD, it was. I can never thank her enough for volunteering right away to transfer Ethan to her insurance. In that moment, I felt favor and I knew faith. 
• Medical bills are insane. Throw the whole US healthcare system away. I have no idea how struggling parents can afford a child with any disability. It is extremely expensive. Ethan's dad and I pay a $4000 deductible and many other co-pay fees before appointments are covered. This amount does not include any outside tutoring or other learning we deem helpful. Thank God for my second job as a server. There are times that I hate having a second job; especially when I go after teaching all day. However, I'm grateful that I can make what I need to, in a time effective way, to finance any and all services for my son. I have faith that I will not have to do this forever, but that while I am I will not worry about any payments. 
• Not only do I have enough money to pay medical expenses, but we travel together at least 5 times a year. Ethan got his passport before he was one year old and I can't even count how many times he's been on a plane. I am so blessed to have been able to bring my child with me to visit family, learn about his heritage, and experience other cultures. I feel my faith in our traveling and I see my faith in his face. How can I not be faithful when I have seen the world through my child's eyes?
• "Excuse me, but let young pimpin' brag a minute" -T.I. I have the most loving/affectionate child. Obviously, I love on my baby. But also receiving that love from family and friends that have become family is truly a blessing. He is surrounded by people that love on him and care about him. How can I not look at his smile, the love inside of him, and the love around him and not find faith?
• Ethan has high functioning autism. Therefore, certain lights, loud sounds, social settings, etc. don't bother him as they may in more severe cases. He plays basketball, soccer, and has swim lessons. I know that he can do anything he puts his mind to. I know this because I am behind him 100%, but more importantly, because I have faith that he can.

Honestly, I wrote this post for me. I cried, I laughed, I felt pain, hurt, and joy reliving this journey. It's been on my heart to share, but it took months to finally build up the courage to be vulnerable and tell our story. I felt like I was debating with God about posting it. Of course God won :) But in true Tash spirit, I needed to know why He wanted me to share. Why do I need to let people see my heart? See how it was broken, pieced together, and how fragile it really is.
After much prayer, debate, and meditation, I believe that sharing will help someone. Someone that's going through something similar, someone that judges others, someone that doesn't know quite what to do when faced with a child that has challenges. Hopefully you find strength, comfort, and will accept a few words of wisdom (I will not say advice, because I don't feel like I can tell someone what to do, but I can inform them on what I have learned).

1. LISTEN TO YOUR INTUITION. People may doubt what you know/feel. Even those close to you. Although my ex-husband loves our child and wants the best for him, he did not see what I saw [initially]. I could have listened to him and not sought out therapy, but instead I listened to the voice inside of me. Because I did, Ethan was able to receive services early on and has made so much progress. I listened to that voice/God and will forever be faithful to Him.
2. ALWAYS ADVOCATE FOR YOUR CHILD. There were so many specialists that did not diagnose Ethan. I was consistently told that he was not "delayed enough." At one of the last appointments while still in search of a diagnosis, I had to let the doctor know that I was not leaving without a diagnosis and/or a treatment plan. Things moved swiftly after that appointment. Not only at the doctor's office, but we had to advocate for him within the school district. Four meetings (approx 9 hours), multiple letters, phone conversations, email exchanges, and filing a complaint to the MI Dept of Education later, Ethan will be given the proper services at school (we were able to resolve the matter a month before our court date). It was a process, but glory to God that we advocated and Ethan will have the school support he deserves.
3. WORK ON YOUR FAITH. This process has been the most demanding and the most rewarding. It is easy to lose faith. It is easy to blame ourselves and refuse to see the good in life.  It is easy to focus on the bad, instead of the blessings. Especially when the latter seems to be few and the former is many. It is hard to come home and praise God after hearing bad news or having bad day. But as difficult as it is, you have to. You have to cry out to him and believe that he will take your worry. You will stress yourself out, drive yourself crazy, and ultimately, you will not be able to live the life he wishes for you. I have learned to praise Him in every season, no matter how long or short. I have chosen to look at the numerous blessings in my life instead of harboring on the "problems." I am literally too blessed to be stressed. And so is my son :)
4. SHOW & TEACH COMPASSION. Be understanding of others challenges. If you don't understand, then seek understanding. Ask questions, google, volunteer. Maybe go up to someone and say something nice about their child. And do that with your own child present. Let your child see acceptance rather than judgment. Show them that despite our differences, we are all God's children. Talk to them and be open about autism, poverty, and any other challenges children may face. Children are innocent and will learn to treat others with love and respect if you teach them to.

IG: natashamckenzie01