Another Update

Since Chelsea is approaching her 18th birthday in August, this seemed to be an appropriate time for another update. She continues to thrive in ways I could never have imagined. She went to a school dance with a young man; she looked so beautiful in her dress. She has learned to speak very clearly and her behavior is nearly perfect. She looks healthy and happy, and I know she is loved. We got together with our extended family and held a swim party for her and then out for dinner. We all had a great time and got lots of Chelsea-hugs. I miss her every day, but I know that she is so much better off with her foster mom. Just because I love her with all my heart does not mean that I am capable of giving her the best care, I clearly was not. There are times I feel guilty for turning her over to her foster mom, but then I just think about how well she is doing. She is so much better off now, and no matter how much I miss her, I have to remember that I did it for her best interest. Bottom line - not everyone has what it takes to raise such a special child, and I readily admit I don't have what it takes to do it right. Some folks (who obviously didn't have a real high opinion of me) had indicated that they thought my life would continue to be miserable even if I didn't have Chelsea, I guess they were insinuating that being a tired, depressed, bitter person was just my nature and Chelsea was my excuse. I can admit that the first year after she left was pretty bad. I was still depressed, my marriage still in trouble, and my finances in an even deeper hole than before. Add to that the guilt I felt for having failed to be strong enough to take care of Chelsea, and it was a pretty rough road that I wasn't sure I would come back from. Over time, however, life has gotten better. I've adjusted to life without her, I have been in counseling since she left, and I have started to live like a normal middle aged woman. It just took awhile to find out what that even meant. I have just gotten to the point where I feel okay about running to the store late at night, there's still that little tiny bit of feeling like I can't do that. I never experienced any burst of a sudden sense freedom, just a laboriously slow return to something close to normal. Finally, we are happy, and Chelsea is happy. And after all, wasn't that the point?

Another Day In Paradise

Well, today was what I view as a good day. There was no eating of non-food items, no pooing in the pants, no peeing in the trash can. I did not have to pick her dinner out of her hair. Just the usual incessant and unintelligible babbling that makes my eardrums numb. Now don't get me wrong, I love her dearly, so much so that I have sacrificed the nice, quiet life I used to have in order to give her a home. But that doesn't mean I have unending patience. It doesn't mean I love cleaning up disgusting messes. It doesn't mean I don't long for a night out with my husband once a year. I am tired of hearing what a saint I am for raising her. I am tired of people touting the joys of raising disabled children. I know that I can't be the only one who is willing to tell the truth, who needs to tell the truth. I can't be the only one who just gets sick and tired of the messes, the problems, the financial strain, the strain on my marriage, the depression. I wouldn't have made my choices any differently, but I need to shout it from the rooftops, "This stinks!', and I want you to be able to do that here. When I read others' comments about raising a disabled child, I usually get a mental image of Donna Reed singing as she cleans poop off the walls. This is not reality, people, so start shouting and we'll start listening and supporting one another.