Saturday, July 30, 2016

Hurting Hearts

"It's enough to drive a man crazy, it'll break a man's faith
It's enough to make him wonder, if he's ever been sane
When he's bleating for comfort from Thy staff and Thy rod
And the Heaven's only answer is the silence of God
It'll shake a man's timbers when he loses his heart
When he has to remember what broke him apart
This yoke may be easy but this burden is not
When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God

And if a man has got to listen to the voices of the mob
Who are reeling in the throes of all the happiness they've got
When they tell you all their troubles
Have been nailed up to that cross
Then what about the times when even followers get lost?
'Cause we all get lost sometimes

There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll
In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain but the breaking does not
The aching may remain but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God"

~"Silence of God" by Andrew Peterson

If you know Brian, you know he is an Andrew Peterson fan.  When we began to correspond in the summer/early fall of 2009, he wrote some of the words to this song in one of his letters.  Immediately, I saw the depth of Brian, both of his heart and of his mind, and I instantly resonated with the sad emotion behind this song.


You know it is has been quite a year for us.  When I think back to one year ago, we were awaiting the arrival of our Silas.  We were three days from my due date, but of course, Silas followed in Caleb's footsteps and arrived eight days late.  We hadn't yet had to deal with seizures, an autism diagnosis, confusion, heartache of watching your child sometimes fall apart, and of course, the silence of God.


When the school year began, I had a two year old and a few week old baby.  Then my seizure hit in mid-September.  Then another came in January.  In February, Caleb's behavior sent us running to the doctor, and we were faced with the overwhelming feelings of raising a child with autism.  Slight-yes- but still.


Adding now to this... it is very possible Silas has autism.


I don't wish to jump the gun.  But I cannot bury my head in the sand.  He is falling behind on a major developmental delay:  feeding himself.  In fact, from the time he was tiny, he has never really put toys in his mouth.  I can't say "never", because I've seen it maybe twice.  But on the cusp of his first birthday, he has not put any food in his mouth.  He also refuses a water bottle or anything in his mouth at all.


These aren't good signs.


Caleb had a feeding delay.  But he finally started at around ten months, while Silas still hasn't figured it out.


I could be wrong, and I pray that I am.  The neurologist told us that the chances go up for subsequent children to have autism... how those words stung, and still do.


The bottom line is that it is too early to tell, because he'll need to be behind in several areas, but I have to brace myself for what may be.


Okay, folks.  I don't wish to be overly dramatic, something I do tend to be.  No surprise there, as I am a former English teacher and lover of a good (clean) Christian romance novel.  It is not cancer, nor is it a death sentence. But it is a sad thing to watch your child lag behind.  I had secretly been hoping, somewhere in a small pocket inside of me, that Silas could help Caleb.  That his doing things on time would somehow cause Caleb to want to keep up.  


We were at the library yesterday for a Mommy and Me story time, and a boy a few months younger than Caleb was answering questions so easily, and he spoke a full sentence without a problem.  I could not help but stare, and feel an overwhelming sadness.  Is it wrong to want my boy to all he can be, with nothing holding him back?  To not do odd things? And the thought that Silas may face this battle, too... is my heart strong enough?


God has seemed silent to me for so long.  I know He is not.  I know that He is there.  But I ache to feel his presence and to feel His arms wrapped around me once again.  For I am haunted by the fact that this all is my fault, perhaps the result of that stupid vaccine I had received just before I became pregnant with Caleb.  


This school year will begin much different from the last.  And like this song, in my loneliest moments, I must remember He wept all alone.  For me.  And for my sons.


And He loves them far, far better than I ever could.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Our Summer So Far

Brian began his summer break two weeks ago, and I became one of the happiest people on earth.
 
It's been wonderful having the extra help with two little ones.  Changing diapers for two children is not easy, so having an extra set of hands has been pretty close to heaven.
 
We've been getting out more, so the prisoners that Caleb, Silas, and I were this past year have been set free.  What's more, my driving ban is pretty much over.  It was this week, six months ago, that I had my last seizure.  I took Silas for a quick trip to the store yesterday- by myself- and it felt like going out with Caleb when he was smaller.  I HAVE NEVER taken both boys out by myself, because my first seizure happened pretty quickly after Silas was born, and I had never gotten the chance.  Some new things are in store for sure.
 
We began the vacation as we always do, heading straight for the zoo.  Since then, we've tried to go to the park, the library, and we tried canoeing, but it didn't work out.  Caleb was terrified, and Silas's life jacket was awkwardly covering his chin/mouth, and he was not having it, so that ended that.  We put them on the swings instead, and it was pure delight.
 
Last week, we headed to my home in NJ, because Caleb and I are seeing a doctor there.  In truth, I'd rather not travel at all, because we are at a difficult stage with Silas, but we have no choice.  About 50-55 minutes from my parents, there is a homeopathic doctor we are seeing.  He was recommended to me by my sister.  I cannot explain exactly what he does, but in some cases, it is nothing short of a miracle.  People come from all over to see him, including 31 states and 7 countries.  It is expensive, because insurance does not cover it, and between me and Caleb both, we are spending a great deal.
 
Do we know for sure Caleb will be healed?  No, we don't.  But we know that we love him more than we love money, and if there is any chance this doctor can cure him, we are willing to take it.  It isn't a waste, because he is making Caleb healthier, even if the autism isn't cured.  He told us that he had a four-year-old girl as a patient, who had never once spoken, and her parents were spending a great deal of money to see him on travel alone, since they were from Texas.  It took a few visits, but he had her speaking at last, and she was speaking exactly like other four-year-olds.  (Before they had come to him, they had gone all over, including France, and no one else could help her.)
 
Changing topics, we have lots of plans for the rest of the summer.  We want to take the boys swimming in the lake down the street.  We plan on going to another zoo later this summer.  Down the street from the hospital where the boys were born is a fair in that we'll probably attend.  But, at the end of the day, the park with slides and swings is still probably the most exciting thing, at least for Caleb.
 
I'll leave you with a few photos from the zoo two weeks ago:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sunday, July 10, 2016

Silas: Eleven Months

Dear Silas,

As you are cruising your way along (literally) to one year, Daddy and I are watching in awe as you blossom and grow. 

You are standing all the time now, and you can take a step or two while holding on to furniture.  When I come get you after a nap, you might be standing up, waiting in desperation for me to come rescue you.

You have mastered crawling.  Mommy and Daddy find it a bit easier to block you in the living room, instead of running around the kitchen and dining area chasing you.

I've said it before and it bears repeating:  You are a mama's boy.  Plain and simple.  When we traveled this past week, it was quite difficult for me at times, because all you wanted was me while in a strange place.  I could barely go get myself a drink, so short was the leash you had on me. 

You look like me.  Or at least, the baby version of me.  Never did I look at Caleb's face and for one minute think he looked like me, because he doesn't.  But you?  It is different.  Many times I've stared at you and thought you resembled my baby pictures.  Your daddy thinks so, too.

We've been shut up all year while I have been on my driving ban.  As we have started getting out more with Daddy home, I am almost surprised by the reactions you receive from people.  Who doesn't love a baby?  And who doesn't love one as handsome as you?  You receive so many comments and smiles!

You can clearly say "ma ma" and at times you call for me when going down or getting up.  You still won't self-feed, nor will you let me give you water from a bottle.  If I want to give you water, I have to spoon-feed it.  You just don't like things in your mouth, period.  You never chew on toys or put anything in your mouth.  A blessing, yes, but I am concerned about these delays.  We will have to wait and see how things turn out.

You and Caleb are clearly becoming friends.  Yes, Caleb is rough with you, but we hope to change that in the future.  The smiles you give one another are beautiful.  We pray and hope that you will be so much more than brothers.  We want you to be best friends.  A sibling is a gift, and I hope you both come to feel that way, too.

Your sleep still leaves much to be desired, but I have to remind myself there are worse things in life.  We will get through this, even though it is hard.  One day, we will all sleep through the night again!  Either that, or Jesus will come back before that happens!

Silas, you are a little light in my life.  I love you tremendously.  Watching you grow is a wonderful thing to behold.  Your smiles and giggles are precious.  Snuggling you and holding you cheek to cheek is still one of my favorite things in this world. 

One day, you'll be watching your bride walk down the aisle of a church.  I, my love, will be watching you.  I will be remembering the little boy who doesn't like me out of his sight.  My heartstrings will pull and tug and ache in all the right places.  And when we dance at your wedding, I'll be remembering how I carried you and danced with you in our little living room.  When I hold you and spin you around while singing, "Could I have this dance, for the rest of my life?  Would you, Silas, be Mommy's partner, every night?" I sometimes think about that future dance we will have together.  And I want to echo Laura Ingalls Wilder, who said in her books, "Now is now, and it can never be a long time ago."

I love you.

Love,
Your mama