Pain

Pain. It creeps into my life at the strangest times. A doctor telling me Teale's weight is too high or a teacher sharing a progress report, which seems to show no progress at all. Things I think I'm "over" can surprise me and I find I am back at the birth, reliving it, aching deep inside my core. I often wonder when I will get at peace with this? When will it not hurt anymore? I recently realized the answer is never. I will never not wish things were different. I will never not wish the doctors had pulled her from me at the first sign of stress. I will never not be mad at myself for not advocating harder in that triage room for Teale's safety. Her life was changed by incompetence, by human error and mostly by pride, a resident trying so hard to prove herself correct, she forgot a baby's life was at stake. She is the one I think about the most in those dark moments when my heart aches so much I think it just might explode. I think about that young, full of knowledge, but not common sense resident who told me I was not in labor because their machines were not picking up my contractions. I wonder where she is now, I even dream about seeing her again and telling her the hell she caused my daughter and my family. I imagine her still practicing medicine, still living her dreams while ours were shattered. I wonder what she remembers. I wonder if she learned from our catastrophe or even thinks about us? When Teale was first born I was apologized to by a few doctors, but not by her. The morning after, with just me in the room, a confused, overwhelmed Mom, the triage doctor, who oversaw that resident, sat in a chair and told me how sorry he was. His face still clear in my memory as I stoically told him his words were not enough. I was medicated, I was in shock and had barely processed the events of the night before, but I knew it was bad. His apology confirmed it, it was human error. I wish that moment never happened because I believe that is possibly the single biggest burden I carry, confirmation. Confirmation that Teale could have been healthier, happier and lived a normal life had they gotten her out of me faster. But it's too late, the past is the past, I need to focus on today, I need to let it go and move forward. Many, many times I have thought those words. I have tried to get at peace by prayer, by talking, by writing, by therapy and even by medications. Friends and family will tell us what a great job we have done, what a Blessing Teale's life is. I have worked hard to let go and move forward. I am human, a am the Mom of a severely challenged child who is growing into a severely challenged adult. I am getting older with her and quite frankly, sometimes I am just worn. The worry for her future is astronomical. Who will love her and care for her like me, after I'm gone? I once heard a horrible saying that only a Mom like I can relate to "Parents of special needs children are the only group of parents that actually hope their children go before them." It's heartbreaking and a truth I have intense difficulty admitting. I fear I could lose her and I fear she will outlive me. I think about our future together. Will I be seventy years old and still trying to care for my sweet Teale? I'm sure this post will bring judgement from others who could never imagine saying and sharing what I have. I also hope it brings peace to someone who finally does not feel alone in their pain. Pain, it can be physical or emotional, with me it is unseen by most, but everyday I struggle to let it go...