You're with me, right Mama?
Then there are things I was really sure I'd never do. Like give my child an antipsychotic drug because I was afraid he was about to hurt himself.
Raising a special boy is a process. Not only a process in surviving the here and now, but a process of recognizing that I'm not a supreme authority in parenting. Recognizing that yes, I can keep my family safe through my child's violent episode, but really it's just better to have him properly medicated so that the episodes can be few and far between.
Recognizing that I can do all things with Christ who strengthens me, but really it is better to admit there are people trained to educate my child with severe learning issues so I can focus on educating the rest of my children.
Sometimes I think it's easy to hide behind my faith and pretend that if I just stick it out long enough things will get better. For too long I've been clinging to inspirational phrases like Rise up on wings like eagles, be strong and couragous, and He will never leave or forsake and so forth. When in reality God has been using my hard circumstances to tell me that my son's issues are not my problem to fix. That walking humbly and asking for help is not the same thing as admitting defeat.
Raising a special boy has taught me that I am not a bad mom for putting the well being of my family ahead of my pride, and anyone who says differently is a lier. And you know how I feel about being lied to.