In My 36th Year…
In my 36th year I am struggling with:
Accepting that my 36-year-old body, the one that delivered 3 healthy, big boys, is never going to look 25 again. I’m getting older and I never thought I would be a person that would care about that.
Sleep deprivation. I’ve been tired for almost 9 years. Awake multiple times a night and up before 5 am every single day. It’s taking its toll. Some days I don’t know how I am going to clear the cobwebs from my brain and find the energy to do all of the things.
Losing weight, eating healthier, drinking more water and less caffeine. Putting away the maternity jeans. Doing my hair and makeup. Because I know that when I like the way I look, I feel better. But part of me just doesn’t care. Until I look in the mirror.
Understanding that some people just die. One day they are here, texting you, calling you, and then the next they are gone. And there is nothing you can do to get them back.
Wanting time to slow down. And yet go faster. Wanting it to get easier. But knowing I’ll miss this when it’s over. My six-year-old is growing so fast, almost ready to take on the world, saying his first swears, yet still sleeping with his blankie. I miss him. I wasn’t prepared for that.
The expectations I have of people, family and friends. But even harder, accepting that no matter what I do, I can’t make them care about my kids or me or anything really.
Accepting the forever of autism. I have the day-to-day down. The ups and downs. The beauty in his sounds and giggles and dances and the struggles in self injuring, anxiety and adhd. But forever. I wasn’t prepared for forever. At 40 and 50. And after I die. No one told me to prepare for that.
Waiting for my baby to have autism. Or to not too. Studying his every moment. And then scolding myself internally, mentally saying, enjoy this. Enjoy every single minute. A sleepless night, is he babbling enough, pointing and waving. Is that enough to relax now?
Trying to figure out if I am more than just a mom. An autism mom. A mom of three boys. A hockey mom. And reminding myself that I have more worth than just doing laundry and wiping faces. I am somebody too.
Showering. Shaving my armpits. Finding a night cream. Cutting my fingernails. I guess just self care. How do I find enough energy to care for myself after giving everything to my kids and husband?
Marriage. A spouse who is the best husband ever, a saint really, but also can push me over the edge in less than 5 seconds. I didn’t know I could get so angry over such silly little things.
But I’ll tell you what I’m not struggling with:
Dancing with my 8-year-old, tickling my 6-year-old and snuggling my baby. Putting my ice-cold feet on my husband in bed and giggling when he yells. Watching my kids grow up into amazing people. Giving anything for one hour alone with my husband. The 11 years I spent with the best dog ever. Finding other moms who say this stuff is hard, offer a hug and a kind word and a laugh. Going for walks. A dirty martini. Friends. Babies. A moment of silence. A great coffee. And the rain.
Life is hard sometimes. It’s okay to say that. Just remember to find the joy whenever you can.
Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.
