The Things I Want You to Know.

I have so many things I want to say, but no words to say it. Everyone wants me to talk about what is happening with my son. Everyone seems to think they know. They assume they know what it's like. They think they know how I feel. Everyone is trying to be supportive, but their way is so awfully painful. It's like a wound that has scarred over, and continuously is picked at. 

I'm writing this because I am emotionally exhausted. I am mentally drained. I am tired. Really, really tired. Yes, my son has been diagnosed. No, I don't want to talk about what it's like for us. Yes, we have answers now. No, I do not want to give you details. I just don't want to talk about it. Believe it or not as a mother I am in some state of grief. I am grieving the child I thought I'd have. All the while loving the child I have more than I ever could possibly imagine. 

This is an incredible journey that we're on. There are tears. There are smiles. So many emotions. It is all so emotional. So heart-wrenching emotional. Some days have been better than others, but it's barely been a month. I still find myself randomly crying. I have found myself questioning everything. I have blamed myself. Called myself crazy. Told myself I am paranoid, and made my son this way. I didn't address paperwork until nearly two weeks later. Even then, I only did so for a day and it was all just too much. It hasn't quite registered yet. Even though my instincts told me so...it's so much harder for it to be confirmed. Its a tough pill to swallow. It changes you. 

I know everyone means well, but it is still too soon. I understand it is not a tragedy. My son is doing well otherwise. I am grateful for that. I celebrate him and his brother often. They are wonderful. Here is what I want you to know:

1. Don't ask me questions.

2. Don't tell me you know how I feel. You really don't. 

3. Don't assume you know what it's like. You'd have to be in my shoes to know.

4. Don't compare my son to those you know or who have. He's not them. 

5. I know things will get better. Don't tell me he will outgrow (insert behavior here). 

6. Don't tell me "God gives the hardest battles to his strongest soldiers." It takes more strength some days than I humanly have. I breakdown often.

7. Don't give us your pity. 

8. Don't say I'm sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for.

9. Last, but not least...do not say "but he doesn't look..." I wasn't aware he had to look like anything. 

This is a very sensitive subject for us. I appreciate everyone's support. Those who have linked me to articles that help me to embrace my feelings. Thank you.