Mondays are hard...

Today is Monday. Mondays are always hard on me. Ethan has therapy at 8:00am where an early intervention team comes to our home and works with him. Once they leave, I get him ready for the day and then loaded up into the van for speech therapy. Before heading out, I pull out photos of the building, his speech therapist, his favorite toy there, and the waiting room. This is part of our new picture exchange communication system that is supposed to help with his transitions. By 11:00, we’re off to speech therapy. At the end of these multiple morning sessions, his therapists will update me on his progress and then ask me a myriad of questions pertaining to his “homework” for that week- whether it be specific speech or behavioral goals, learning new signs, or following new commands. Sometimes I have good news for them, sometimes I don’t. This week, I was happy to report that he has started to actually understand me when I tell him to “sit down" without any gestural prompts. I’m always excited to share good news with them, but I just can’t seem to quiet that voice in the back of my mind saying “are you REALLY celebrating this right now? Your two and a half year old learned a simple command that he should have known over a year ago. That’s not a cause for celebration…” And that’s when the mom guilt gets me. That’s when I start to question why he is the way he is, what I have or haven’t done to help him enough, what I could be doing to help him more, why we’ve gone through months of therapy and he still isn’t speaking. Mom guilt… It haunts us all, but experiencing what I have with Ethan has taken it to a level that I didn’t even know existed. And Mondays are the worst. We spend our mornings in therapy and I have the rest of the day to think about all those questions from the professionals and all of the progress we haven’t made yet. Once we’re home, I put the kids down for a nap, and I’m alone with my thoughts. I think about his IFSP and his upcoming IEP and all of the other documents and goals and progress records and new commands and signs that I have been tasked to teach him in the upcoming week. When he learns and retains something new, I get that “Christmas morning” feeling that I used to get as a child. Sheer excitement and joy. When he doesn’t meet a goal, I feel like a failure.

This is where prayer comes in…

 I have spent countless hours awake in my bed worrying, contemplating, crying, questioning, analyzing, and (worst of all) googling. But none of that helps Ethan speak. None of that makes him less frustrated. None of that eases my anxieties or comforts me. In these moments… Prayer is the answer. The Lord is here to comfort me and guide me and lift this burden. I have faith that this obstacle we are going through is only temporary. I know that we have all been given challenges to mold us and to sculpt us into the people that our Father in Heaven wants us to become. I don’t know WHY Ethan has a speech and language disorder, when and if he’ll ever be able to effectively communicate, or why we have been given this specific challenge, but I do know a few things... I know that it could be a LOT worse. I know that I have a healthy son and I thank God for that every day. I know that the Lord never gives us more than we can handle. And I know that this trial will strengthen and unite our family. I know I have a lot to learn as a mother. Being Ethan’s mother has truly humbled me. I was that mom who would constantly brag about my ‘genius-of-a-daughter’ who was walking and talking at nine months old. How foolish of me to think that was something that I could actually take credit for! I now have a 2.5 year old who doesn’t even say “mama” and although there’s that little voice in the back of my mind that tries to tell me it’s my fault, I know that’s not the case. Scripture tells us that “all things which are good cometh of God; and that which is evil cometh of the devil…” [Moroni 7:12] Mom-guilt is not of God. He does not want me blaming myself or questioning my abilities. I am Ethan’s mother for a reason, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. He is the most sweet, gentle, loving child I have ever been around. Whether someone has known him for 2 minutes or 2 years, EVERYONE comments on his sweet nature. He is my gentle giant and I know I have just as much to learn from him as he has to learn from me. 

Mondays are hard… 

But life is hard and I will have to get through many more Mondays. 

I will get through them with God on my side. I will not let the adversary win. I will continue to pray when things get hard and praise God every chance I get. The Book of Psalms tells us that children are a blessing from the Lord and I believe that with my whole heart. I have been blessed with three of them- all with their unique strengths and weaknesses. I know I have been fully equipped to raise them up in my loving care, despite any obstacles that we may face along the way. I will continue to pray, not only for myself, but for my children <3