Dare to Believe Mom and Dad

When my son was five years old, we had no good days. We had bad days and okay days.

I am scared to admit that because I know someone reading this will judge me. They will say I am a bad mom. Or say I am weak for admitting that.

But, if our story helps one person, gives one mom or dad hope, than it’s worth it.

When my son was five, he was unable to communicate. He couldn’t tell us if he was in pain, or if his socks felt funny, or if he was having a nightmare.

All he could do was scream and lash out. Either at me, his brother, or himself.

All were devastating.

He spent his time pacing through our house and trying to escape out the front door.

Some days the locks, alarms and fences were enough to keep him safe. Some days, they weren’t.

Those were the really scary days.

There was never a break from the stress. Not during the day when he was at school and not at night when he was supposed to be sleeping.

I was always waiting for a phone call or the jiggle of the doorknob.

He had chronic ear infections, constipation, and he couldn’t sleep.

He hated the light, kindergarten, and leaving home.

He couldn’t handle stores, riding in the car or when our house got too loud.

Our days started at 3:30 in the morning and didn’t end until 9 pm at night.

It was a very tough time for our family. But more importantly, it was a very tough time for our son.

Watching him struggle almost broke me. Even today I struggle to explain the feeling of helplessness and failure that I felt as his mother.

I just wanted to help him. I wanted to help him calm his brain and his body and teach him to sit and learn and try.

Nothing worked though.

I remember thinking, this is it. This is the rest of my life.

Fear. Worry. Exhaustion. Failure.

Repeat.

I’ll never be able to relax. Or sit down. Or turn the lights on or even leave the front door open.

I’ll never see my children play together. Or have a conversation with my boy.

I’m never going to sleep again or figure out the mystery that is my son.

Yup, those were the thoughts that went through my brain.

Right or wrong, they were on constant repeat.

I was exhausted. And honestly, scared to hope for a breakthrough.

I turned my mind, heart and soul to accepting where my son was at.

But then, like it always does, life has a way of working out. Usually at your lowest point. The point where giving up feels close.

Slowly. When you least expect it. Hope bubbles up.

We found doctors that cared. That listened to us and cared enough to help a challenging child.

We figured out his diet and got him eating healthier foods. That fixed his ear infections and stomach troubles.

We started LIFE CHANGING meds, that I was once to afraid to even consider, that drastically reduced his debilitating anxiety and ADHD.

He learned to communicate.

He started sleeping.

Then because he could rest, he started sitting. And trying. And learning.

He stopped hitting and self injuring.

Then we moved to a neighborhood full of kids and people who saw how amazing Cooper truly is. There was no judgement. Just kindness.

Suddenly, our house was full of laughter and joy and noise and dancing and trains and puzzles.

It was no longer sad. The days were no longer bad or just okay. They were all good and great.

Just like that.

I want to tell you something. Something I wish someone would have told me 3 years ago.

I want you to believe that this can get better. I want you to believe that your child will improve.

I want you to believe that you won’t be stuck in this hard place forever.

I want you to dare to believe that there really could be a breakthrough in speech, sleeping, learning, trying, anything and everything.

Even if it takes years and years.

My son is almost 9 and he is just now learning skills that toddlers can do. And you know what? It’s absolutely amazing.

I’m not sad he is late. Or delayed. I am overjoyed that it’s happening.

Dare to believe mom and dad. Even at your lowest point.

Believe. Believe in a breakthrough.

Believe so much in your child that others think you are crazy.

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.