BY SANDRA SPINELLI
I’m raising a son with special needs.
I live in a steady state of fear.
My son has unexplained medical issues. Anger boils inside of me.
He cannot communicate his needs. Overwhelmed, unable to calm myself.
Why can’t someone provide an answer? The future is daunting.
Frazzled state on what to accomplish.
I need to hire more care assistants. Change his soiled diaper. Call for medical attention.
Did you refill his medication?
Did you communicate with his teacher?
What is his speech therapist doing to help him communicate?
Does his occupational therapist know he won’t hold his fork?
How does his physical therapist handle his unwillingness?
Will I ever find a good doctor?
It’s difficult for me to sleep.
I keep a baby monitor next to my bed.
I listen to a change in breath.
I listen for a seizure.
I hear darkness.
What will I do?
Squeeze him harder in the middle of the night.
Love him an extra second longer. Dive into his soul to communicate.
Appreciate the higher power for the gift.
See the beauty in his eyes. Celebrate his accomplishments with the world.
I might give up a little.
I may turn and walk away.
I am the essence of pain mixed with passion.