Because it's miserable.  So seriously, don't read it.  I already think I'm mighty depressing to listen to and I'm definitely in that mode; you can check back in after the holidays. 

 

I'd like to say I haven't posted in a while because I've been vacationing in the south of France or something.  But I've just been wallowing.  No other way to put it.  

 

The facts are, Sam is fine.  Actually, healthy and strong and doing quite well.  Responding well to ABR.  Working hard and fighting his tail off every day.  He was an angel in the church play on Sunday - I will, in another post, describe that.  It was too good to sully it by making it fraternize with my pity party posting.   

 

So why the pity party?  I don't have to explain the part about the expectations that holidays have, and they're just not fulfilled here.  That's a given.  But there's an awful lot of little things.  Like the fact that I dropped off two huge boxes of completely un-played-with toys at the shelter a couple of weeks ago.  I basically cleared out Sam's room of toys he never played with to make room for more toys that we're hoping he might play with.  We search and search for something that might break through the barrier between him and the rest of us.   We ought to be buying him a bike with training wheels, but we're still searching through the newborn aisles for something he might be able to see or feel. 

 

We used to take "Christmas on the beach" pictures of Ben every year.  We propped him up on the jetty when he was too little to support himself, and I envisioned taking that shot every year, watching him grow, watching him hold a little brother (I never imagined a sister), watching our family grow.  And we laughed so much because we dressed him in red velvet and white knee socks and tried to figure out how long we could get away with it.  But we can't do that now because we can't take Sam to the beach because he can't blink and we don't want sand in his eyes or trach.  Yeah, it's a stupid thing in the grand scheme of things, but I want it. 

 

I also remember very clearly what last year was like, and thinking that this year would be so much better, so different.  And it's not so different.  Physically, Sam is much stronger, and I'm very grateful for that and I never want to sound like I'm not.  But I really expected a smile, a squeeze of the hand, to hear my son's voice - something like that by now.  I really don't think it's too much to ask.   

 

So, I don't know.  I don't mean to wallow, I really don't.  But sometimes, it gets the best of me. 

 

Anyway.  I could go on and on.  Clearly, I already have.  I just wanted to explain where I've been and where we've been and that everything is okay - as okay as it can be. 

 

Pbbblttt.  I'm sorry.  I'm actually NOT falling apart and am doing better.  This is part of that process - so thanks for listening.  I love you for it.