An Ordinary Day

I've got so many emotions going on lately that sometimes all I can think to do is write. Writing allows me to bring my emotions to the surface and let me out while healing a little in the process. I listened to a song about Emma Smith, Never Had an Ordinary Day, and its one that always brings me to tears.  I often reflect on the woman that Emma Smith was and all that she endured as wife to Joseph Smith and the mother of his children.  I can't even comprehend how she witnessed so many horrific things and still managed to pick herself and go on.  I admire her for that and it helps me reflect and put in perspective all that's going on in my life.

Today, Maddox had another speech appointment.  One thing I'm learning more that anything...it is extremely emotionally draining on me.  I know this process is going to be full of hard work and patience and faith; and let's be honest, those things aren't usually my strong suit. First, he's a 2 year old being confined to a room and directed play.  He's very much a roamer and an independent one at that.  He does things on his own time and usually by himself if possible.  I feel anxious before each appointment hoping that he will do well and participate and that it won't be a battle.

I prayed the night before. Hard.  More than anything else, I just want to see progress. And if I'm being completely honest, I just want him to talk.  Sounds so simple when your writing it and yet so frustrating and unreachable all at the same time.  I spend all week thinking about what a joy that little boy is in our family and trying to help him in ways I know I can.  At home, where its safe, I don't focus on what he can't do, but how smart and funny he is.  Then, all at once in one appointment, I'm forced to realize that this simple thing called talking, does not come easy to him.  It's an uphill climb and I'm standing at the bottom wishing there was a way around.

After listening to Emma's song, my emotions were fragile and I allowed myself to just cry.  This is overwhelming for me, it scares me and I feel helpless. I want things to come easily for my children and I know that they always won't.  It even comes to a point when I hear another child Maddox's age talking, a twinge of envy and sadness comes over me.  I don't want this to be hard for him in life and I honestly don't want this to be hard on me either. Curtis is so optimistic and positive. He tells me not to worry, that it will happen.  A lot of people tell me he will catch on and as much as I hate to admit it out loud or in writing, I'm terrified he won't.  Writing those words...is raw emotion for me.  But it's how I find myself feeling.

I want and need more than anything to find the faith and trust I need to get through this, more than anything for Maddox, but also for me. Because I know that this is putting me in uncomfortable situations that I just don't want to be in. But I am, and I have to figure out a way to be positive about it or I'll never learn what I need to get through it.

My ordinary days are filled with joy from being the mom to 3 amazing children.  I feel truly grateful to have been entrusted with these beautiful children and know that they are here to be taught, but even more than that, they are here to teach me. I want more, too. I have a war within myself every day trying to decide when the right time is to add another.  In a perfect situation, there wouldn't be a question.  I'd probably already be pregnant.  But Maddox's delay holds me back and part of me isn't sure that it should.  There are so many things that I'm trying to work toward, and it'd be easier on everyone if I just hurried up and learned it already.

So now, I'll move forward.  I'll do all I can to help my little man and slowly starting finding that faith that I need to know everything will be ok. There is a higher power involved.  And knowing that, brings me the peace and courage I need for one more day.

This picture makes my heart smile.  A big brother wanting to be dressed just like his little brother and making sure they match everything down to the socks. And the more I stare at that little boy in the picture, the more I realize how truly amazing it is to be his mommy.  

Now that my writing therapy session is over, I can honestly say I feel better.  Letting out all the fear, and doubt and sadness only makes room for hope and joy.  I know one day I will look back on this experience and be grateful for all it taught me.