The Loss of a Dream

Every few months, the Little Man seems to go through a growth period and during this time, his sleep gets disrupted.

He normally sleeps very well (he takes after his mama) but during times of growth or transition, everything will go haywire for about a week. During that week he will be hyper and anxious during the day, chatting a mile a minute, and then restless at night. He will wake up at around midnight-1am, tell me he is scared and climb into our bed.

Since we bed shared from the beginning, he's always been welcome in our bed, even though it results in worse sleep for us as he's gotten bigger. I am more concerned about his rest than mine, and he likes to take over my pillow and then sleep with his legs on top of me. I usually end up with sore muscles from hanging off the bed and not being able to move. But such is the life of a mama.

So it's no big deal when he came in at 1am and said, "I'm frightened in my room, I'd like to try out yours." Lovely. Come on in! He tossed and turned and squirmed and I asked him if he was ok. He said he was fine.

Around 4am, I wake up to him crying. "What's wrong?"

"NOTHING!" he screams out into the dark, like a petulant teenager. "Nothing" is his upset response when he loses his words. "Nothing" is like the "I'm fine" of some women. It means there is something very wrong, but so wrong it cannot yet be expressed.

"You're crying, you seem upset," I tell him.

And in between sobs, he begins to tell me about a dream he was having with a slide and a bucket. Mama and Dada were there. The bucket was pink and black and brown...and he lost it.

"Now I can't get it back because I lost it in the dream!" he wailed.

"Oh my goodness, that IS upsetting!" and I tell him I understand. I tell him he will have to go back and look for it.

"But how?! Now the dream is gone and I can't ever go back!"

"Well, you just have to believe you can go back. And then you make a new dream and go back and get it."

"OK," he says, still crying.

I tell him, "we will go back to the dream together and I will help you find it. I know you can do it!"

And he fell into a deep sleep in search of his bucket that was pink and black and brown, and oh, so dear to him. 

Travel Without Kids

In less than a month I will be in China. From there, I head to Japan and then South Korea. I'm going alone, as I like being a solo woman traveler, but also I don't think it makes sense to drag my son along with me. That doesn't stop a lot of people asking me why.

First off, mostly people without kids ask me why I'm not taking my three-year-old on a 13-hour flight. I'm sure there are some special three-year-olds out there who wouldn't drive anyone insane on a 13-hour flight, but my child is not one of them. I don't think it's fair to him to do such a thing. Not only that, but why would I want to subject him to a 13-hour time change as well?

He's three. He's not going to remember this trip and be able to appreciate it or look back on it fondly. He craves routine, so why would I want to disrupt all that, jumping from hotel to hotel every night?

And how can I guarantee I will be able to find peanut butter and emergency bananas?

Why subject him to possibly unsanitary conditions?

What if I lost him in a foreign country?

The list could go on!

from GoGoBabyz.com

The fact is, this is MY trip, MY dream, MY vacation. If someone doesn't share your dream, there is no point in dragging them around with you. It makes no difference if that someone is your lover, your best friend or your child. It will only make everyone resentful.

My whole life is about my son. I work for him, I live for him. I even travel away from him so I can come back refreshed.

When he is old enough, we can talk about his dreams and we can try to make them happen. But right now, let me live mine.

Let Your Child Live Their Own Life

Possibly because we knew going into pregnancy that we had a chance of having a special need's child, I refused to have expectations. After three miscarriages, my only goal was to have a live birth. I'll admit, if given a choice, I really wanted a boy with green eyes (which is what I got, yay!) but I didn't want to have any expectations as to the type of person he would become.

I think also, after our first miscarriage, I realised how quickly we build expectations the minute we discover we're pregnant. Right away you start imagining what he or she may look like, you wonder if it's a boy or a girl, you day-dream about university graduations, weddings, her first period, a first driving lesson...it goes on and on. When all goes well, this can be an enjoyable part of pregnancy. When you have a miscarriage, all those dreams die along with the baby. So I quickly realized, or maybe it was a coping mechanism, that it was best never to get my hopes up and not to have any expectations about the developping child. Just being pregnant, even one day, became my whole focus and where I directed my gratitude.

Even after a healthy pregnancy, I've seen people mourning what they hoped their child would become after they received a special need's diagnosis. But I think saying, "he'll never drive a car or never get married" and being sad about it does two things: it imposes your view of how you think this other person's life should be lived and it sets limitations on your child. Unless you can see the future, why be sad about things he/she *might* not be able to do? Things can often change, they may surprise you. Also, how important are these things you want them to accomplish? Maybe they won't drive a car, but will be an amazing painter. Is that so bad? You could have a perfectly "normal" child who hates driving and never wants to get married.

Are they happy? Are they relatively healthy? Isn't that all that really matters?

I think regardless of your child's health status, you shouldn't put your hopes and fears on them. It's for them to learn, make mistakes and find their way in life.
The fact is, you lived your life. It's time to let your child live theirs.