I tend to romanticize things especially when they're far off in the distance. I think we all do. When you're pregnant you fantasize about your baby and the Johnson and Johnson commercial moments you are going to share with them. I spent a large portion of my pregnancy stuck in the sheer fantasy of it all. There was so much to plan for, so much to buy. But slowly the magnitude of what was about to occur took hold and I found myself sinking into a depression. All that I had ever known was about to end. Gone were the blissful mornings of waking up to a silent house full of serenity. Shit was about to get real.
I find myself in much the same place tonight as I await the news that will undoubtedly change my life and the vision I had for Ham's future. It's like we hit the forty-second week and there is no more holding it in. We will know the secret, the bliss of not knowing will be over. It will be painful and scary and new. I know that a recovery period will be in order for our family, but I have no idea what that will entail. Though Ham is the topic of conversation, the Hubs and I will need just as much help and guidance as he does. We will have to learn to parent him all over again.
Part of me wishes I could linger in this day for awhile, let the calm sink in before it dissipates. I want to bask in my own ignorance and still allow myself to think that nothing is wrong. I want to look at Ham as a "normal" kid with "normal" problems. I'm not ready for reality.
This painful part is my transition from being a regular parent to a special needs parent. I can no longer ignore the voice in my head that says something is wrong. I must let it out. I have no choice.