Special needs parenting

“The Last Time”

I’ve seen that ‘the last time’ video floating around (If you haven’t seen it, watch it here ) and it’s made me think about the last time I thought it was going to be ok.

For me, it’s not like a breakthrough lightning strike moment. It’s the little things.
The moment I realized that Ella would never have kids of her own, I cried and moved on.
It’s ok
The time I realized that she would never get married, I cried and moved on.
When I realized she would never move out of home, get a job, be independent. I cried, and moved on.
It’s ok
The realization that I will be her full time carer for the rest of my life, and the worry of what’s going to happen when I die? I cry and move on.
It’s ok
There are so many flashes of the future, and as Ella gets older it just gets scarier.

Yeah we get stares and comments when out at the park, because she’s louder than other kids her age, because she’s different.
It scares me to think how people will react when she’s 17, or older, and still wanting to play with the little kids, still louder and clumsy and self harming.

We work so hard for her to achieve all that she has achieved, and I’m so proud, really! Everyone loves hearing the achievements, the good times, sharing in our joy and being proud right along side us. But there will come a point where this is it.
Ella will reach her limit, that’s just being realistic.

Most of the time We do our thing, we carry on and I barely even register that things are different for us.
And then there’s days like today. The days no one wants to hear about, no one wants to see in public because it’s ‘confronting’ the days Where Ella is so frustrated and she can’t tell me why, she won’t eat, or help me get her dressed, or sit on the toilet, or let me brush her teeth. Where every step is a battle. And she hits, and bites herself so damn hard, and lashes out at me when I try to stop her. Wanting to run onto the busy road, trying to pull away from me as we wait for the bus, and melting down when I won’t let her. Behaving more like a 1 year old than the almost 7 year old that she is.
And I cry, maybe a little more than usual and move on.
Some days, it’s really not ok.

But hey, there’s always tomorrow, and it will be ok.

I actually wrote this early last year before I had started my blog, and it popped up in my mind recently so I figured I would share x

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