Fighting For My Sonautism screenings, behavioral disorders, neurological disorders, the repercussions of drug and alcohol abuse and factors of epigenetics. The testing is mind-boggling and the list of “what-if’s” even more daunting.
Right now I can’t stand Carver’s birth parents. I want to punch them and stomp on them and shake them. Their choices directly effected what is happening within the little body of my son. They hurt him. Now, with that said, I am grateful to them a million times everyday for the gift they gave me, when they chose Kev and I to be his mom and dad. Right now, when I walk into the Neuropsychologists office and I give my quaking, crying, terrified child over to professionals to test my son, in the hope they can figure out what is going on in his little brain, and his little body; the grateful-for-the-gift, part of my brain shuts off and I see red. I am rational, I know there are underlying issues–that everyone did the best they could with what they had. But, in those moments, looking in my baby boy’s eyes, I am undone.
I keep coming back to the word Grace. Extend grace, with the measure you’d want it extended to you. Just Grace. Some days those are the only words I can manage to pray out, “God, grace for the moment. I am sinking. I am scared. I am overwhelmed. Just grace.
Grace; and the Roar of a Lion to fight this battle for Carver.