battles vs. war

The past two weeks have been rough. And I have the battle scars to prove it.

Micah has been sleeping more and more at school. The teacher feels that sometimes it is to avoid the task at hand. Other times she believes he's so tired he just can't help it. Micah does not get quality sleep because of eczema. Some nights are worse than others. He constantly scratches and claws his skin, even though I slather him up with lotion and topical medication. The doctor prescribed hydroxyzine to help with the itch at night. Micah says that he sleeps in class because of the medicine. So. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Last Thursday the school called to tell me Micah was sleeping. They allowed him to take a 30 minute nap. They woke him and directed him to class but he got angry and threw a laptop on the floor. Thank goodness it was an older laptop and it didn't break. Regardless, he got suspended. When I walked into the classroom to pick him up he was lying on the cold tile floor, shirt over his head...sleeping. I mean a hard sleep. You know when someone wakes you up and you are so dead asleep that you get that "where the heck am I" feeling?

I was so infuriated with him over getting suspended. I mean, it is really hard to get suspended from alternative school, right? I had all kinds of retribution brewing in my head on the way home. He begged me all the way home to let him just sleep. I stood my ground. He was going to receive discipline. By the time we pulled in the driveway he was in tears. "Please momma, just let me sleep for a little while", he sobbed. I gave in.

He slept for 6 hours! He got up for 2 hours...he slept for another 9 hours! This was after sleeping the night before and the majority of the morning at school. Something is not right with this picture. Off to the psychiatrist, pediatrician, therapist and possibly sleep doctor in search of an answer to this mystery.

So...suspension. Then allergy shots. Oh, by the way...Micah did receive retribution for throwing the laptop. We started his allergy shots on the day he was suspended. No, that was not the retribution! Well, maybe for me it was but I figured I might as well make the most of the involuntary day off from work.

We tried allergy shots a few years ago. It was such a battle to get them done each week that we gave up. At the time, we had just gotten his diagnosis and had much bigger issues at hand. Micah put on a brave face going in but as soon as he got back to the nurse he freaked. We danced around and played the game for about 15 minutes. The nurse was growing annoyed and there were other patients waiting for their shots. I turned loose of my flip flops, wrestled him to the ground and restrained while the nurse did the shots. He screamed bloody murder! "Momma, why are you forcing me to do this? I'm not ready! Let me go!" The other nurses and patients in the back stared and whispered. As I turned him loose and got to my feet I realized I was breathing heavy and sweating a little. He's a thick, fiesty little booger! The nurse said, "momma, you gonna be ok?" "Yep. Not my first rodeo." Now I remember the reason we stopped! I can say that the second week - walked right in...took those shots like a boss!

We let the boys stay up a late to watch a movie with us. Micah freaked on me when it was time to go to bed. He was relentless about wanting to sleep with Richard and I. In hindsight, I should have given up the battle and allowed it. At the time, I stood my ground because he had been in our bed every night for the past two - three weeks! We were both of the verge of needing chiropractic intervention!

The arguing escalated quickly and turned physical. He kept pushing and screaming. If anyone in the house was sleeping, they weren't now! I told him that if he kept kicking and pushing me I would have to restrain him. He continued on so I moved him to the floor. He kicked, head bucked, bit, screamed. He called me a "fat, fucking sumo wrestler" and a "douchbag". (side note: I had a very frank discussion with him a few days later about what this word meant. Yeah, probably not gonna use that word again)

It breaks my heart when this happens. I hate watching my child fight this inner battle. I feel guilt - if I had just given in and let him sleep with us he wouldn't have escalated to this point. The enemy tries to take residence in my brain - telling me I am a failure of a mother. After about 30 minutes of a hard fight he breaks. This allows me to break too. I let go of this monster I don't even recognize and take my sobbing child into my arms. We sit on the floor together, rocking, and we pray. We pray boldly and I feel God's presence folding us into the cover of his feathers. Under his wings we find refuge. (Psalm 91:4)

I lay Micah in his bed and leave the nightmare of the past week as if it never really happened. Psalm 91:4 ends by saying: His faithful promises are your armor and protection. The battles are not over. Dare I say there will be many more to come in this child's life. But - God promises us protection during these scary times. There will be victory in Micah's life - of that I am sure!

There's No Crying in Baseball

I am a cry baby. I am. I cry…a lot. I am the girl who cries at weddings and sappy, sad movies. I boo hoo during The Notebook. I cry when my feelings get hurt or when I am overwhelmed with joy. I cry about injustice in the world. I cry when I am missing a friend and also when I see that friend again after a long time. I celebrate victory if I make it through a meeting with my boss without tears. I cry when I am angry. I make it about a block down the road after saying goodbye to my family. I even cry at those stupid Publix and Folgers commercials at the holidays. Damn commercials! Today, I cried at a pee-wee baseball game. I know what you are thinking – “There’s no crying in baseball”. But cry baby over here…cried. The tears came for two reasons. It was Noah’s first baseball game. He looked so cute, yet so grown up in his uniform and batting helmet. I envisioned the years to come that will spent in the bleachers, through rain and cold, cheering his team on to victory. He was so proud of himself and I was so proud for him. Noah always gets the short end of the stick. Our world revolves around Micah and his needs. Noah waits patiently, always in the shadows of his older brother – waiting for his moment to shine. Today was the day! Micah - the other source of my tears. Tears of frustration and embarrassment. Tears of defeat and longing for a different set of circumstances. I picked the boys up from school with only minutes to get Noah to the ball field. (Why make parents get children to a game by 5:00pm? Doesn’t anyone work these days?) Micah begged me to take him home first. I explained that I had to get Noah to the game. I knew he did not want to go. In the back of my mind I knew it was a bad idea to take him. I rationalized – he has been doing so well and it has been so long since he has acted out in public. He could make it through one game. It would mean so much to Noah to have him there, cheering for him. As soon as we made it to the bleachers it began. I am not sure why it took me by surprise. Didn’t I remember the chaos that ensued at the soccer field? The screeching rants. “THIS IS SO STUPID! I WANT TO GO HOME! THIS SUCKS, WHY DO WE HAVE TO BE HERE???” I guess it shocked me because it had been so long since he has had a public meltdown. As I try to process what went wrong tonight I realize the reason there has not been a meltdown recently is because we have not pushed Micah out of his comfort zone. There is peace as long as he feels safe and can remain in his own little world. We have not pushed interaction and participation with other children at church and small group. We have allowed him to retreat to the bedroom to watch Minecraft videos and listen to music instead pushing him to interact with the family. The push into the unknown tonight sent him over the edge. There was screaming, cussing, flying of fists, biting, and clawing. I saw the stares and I heard the whispers. It was quite the show. I calmly said “Stop”. I physically restrained, bobbed and weaved, and removed fingernails from my skin. I reassured him that when daddy arrived we could go sit in the car. I rubbed his back and applied deep pressure. I prayed. I felt completely powerless in the moment. All of the confidence I had built up over the last year, the tough “Autism mom” armor I adorned was destroyed during this battle of wills. The façade gave way to tears. Several months ago my tears would have brought on more rage from Micah. Tonight, my tears were a gateway to his sobbing - and surprisingly, remorse. Remorse! This is HUGE! Score one for team Micah! Micah was able to pull it together and so was I. We enjoyed the game. He cheered for Noah. Noah was up to bat and Micah yelled to him, “You just have to swing when the ball comes toward you.” For the first time Micah was able to show support to his brother. We have a lot more games in our future. I pray that Micah will be able to come out of his world for long enough to return the support that Noah gives him on a daily basis. Hopefully, if there is anymore crying in baseball from this momma they will be tears of pride and joy. Side note: Noah’s team won and we celebrated with ice cream.