Archive for the ‘The Early Years’ Category

Фотография радующегося мальчика
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I got to see my son for the first time in a very long time. We spent much needed time together. I had never seen his arms before now as back we last meant it was winter and he always had long sleeves. When I drove up he was smiling, standing in the lot adjacent to the rooming house he rents in. He had no fresh needle marks that I could see, his doctor has him drug tested so just maybe this is for real I hope. He had scars though, his arms, his neck and legs. I call them battle scars.   We held his hands like when he was little, quickly scanning over his body as mother’s do to be sure all looked okay.

Prior to this moment we have been conversing only on the phone this last year, it’s been much to long being apart. We hugged each other the hug of mother and child reunited.” My son is alive” I heard myself think silently, and I am so grateful. Before today I had always lived in fear of him not hurting me, but just afraid of the deep depression and anger he has carried around since being a toddler, teenager and then adult.

His illness has landed him in jail, in hospitals, crisis shelters and homeless. He has been assaulted, drugged and robbed and tried to commit suicide on 4 occasions.  It’s cost him every single job, his relatives and friends have left him. There is just his brother and myself. If only as a child his father would have allowed him to stay on his medication, if only he had agreed to take it as a teenager…

As a teenager it became much worse and he was thrown out of school. He was always in physical confrontations, his voice booming in anger was a constant at home and when he became bigger than me occasionally he would physically attack me in the heat of the moment, once or twice resulting in my falling over. Life with son growing up was horrible and unpredictable and destructive no matter who came to help or by placing him in a facility for help. Here I stood holding my son already seeing the 100% difference in his manner, thinking and moods all from one antidepressant medication and I am so happy for him. He is back to the land of the living, now we can get to finally know each other. Everyday I call him and remind him to take his medication, so far he has stayed on it and has no plans on stopping. We actually talk now and laugh. There is no yelling!

We spent that special day catching up with each other, sharing life experiences while apart, laughing together and hugging some more.  We went and got something to eat and the end of the day I didn’t want to leave and drive the hour or so away again. I’d have given anything to bring him back with me but his life is where he is, it’s not much but his room is his and I respect that. I brought him things for his room, food and cooking utensils to help make him more self sufficient. He was grateful and enjoyed showing me his small space.

Oh if I could just grab him, throw him in my car and bring him home. In so many ways he is still a boy who has missed much by being alseep for years in pain and drugs. In many ways he is an old man who has been through much too much for a 25 year old man. I pray daily he can keep the life he has given back to himself by finally taking his antidepressant.

My son smiled, laughed, talked and people no longer stare at him for his hateful outbursts. Now they are drawn to him because he says “hello” to them and “how are you man?, nice day isn’t it?”  His new energy is profound.

This is my son, and he is alive today!

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Mad world

By The time my second son reached the age of two is was obvious he was gifted with his own talents, one being basketball.

Yes, basketball.

Though at that time in my own life I was battling my own ghosts yet to be coined a name, motherhood came first always in my heart, mind and life. I had a four year old son and now also a two year old son and they were night and day if compared.

My oldest son was soft spoken, cuddly and already gifted in art and mind. My younger son now two was a stereotypical “boy” and dove head first into everything without fear it seemed. He pursued his toddler interests with gusto, was loud yet cute and loved to dribble a basketball next door at his granddad’s where there was a large dooryard and obviously a basketball hoop to go with it.

He dribbled a basketball so well neighbors often stopped to watch him do it but once he realized he was drawing attention he would toss the ball in anger, become vocal and storm off. He was a very vocal little boy but with his dark curly locks, favorite red baseball cap, deep blue eyes and always serious look he was striking.

Because he was so cute and always wore a serious look on his face making him appear older his granddad lovingly would call him “old man,” and jokingly bark at him “who you mad at?”  Of course it was just granddad being funny yet my son would react with an angry outburst or at best a LOUD reply not expected of a child his age but his seriousness, his seemingly built in anger at the world and outbursts we all chalked up to “the terrible twos.”

One observation as his mom that did make me uneasy though I knew he was very young, was his seeming total lack of fear,  for want of a better term. He would always act before thinking, react to everything exaggerated and he was so stubborn he easily tried adult patience no matter who it was.

Some call it a strong personality being so young we just had no clue what was stirring within him, nor did anyone understand his ability to be unaffected by consequences to some of his actions as we teach children right and wrong.

Reflecting back the twenty or so years now I easily see how already by age three he was already a volcano erupting.

It is said a mother has instincts where her children are concerned.  Watching my youngest son often as we do with silent admiration as he slept at night tucked into his bed  when I did get him to stay in bed and finally fall asleep I already knew I had a difficult time ahead of me and worse, felt something wasn’t quite right about my growing little boy but couldn’t put a finger on it then.

He was a rough and tumble boy, a toddler and had his whole life ahead of him and he would certainly grow out of it.


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