and and Benji

[Guest guest]

is 12...he still wears diapers too. Poop smearing is

something that I could have only imagined in my nightmares. We have

the blessing of that not having happened for a long time (now that we

have no carpets and no paint on the walls..even the washable stuff

comes off with frequent scrubbing). I think the tyroid meds have

really helped.

Yes, I admit, we are living in what some people would say is a mental

institution. Motherhood is not what I anticipated...my sisters'

little kiddos were such fun. They had it so easy....

We don't have enough room in our house..Benji sleeps in the

livingroom because he was waking everyone at night with their hair

getting pulled out. Locks on all the bedroom doors.. Maybe soon he

can sleep in brother's room again. ...or maybe we can somehow afford

a more appropriate (4 bedroom) home.

Benji doesn't respond to his name. We are in fear of him getting

outside the front door...so we keep it double locked. We lock the

kitchen and laundry room...he would get into the dryer or oven. He

likes to open the fridge and leave it open. In the backyard, Benji

puts every dirty thing he can find in his mouth. And we have a very

frightened little dog... doesn't understand 'soft' with her

(but he does gently pat us now).

He's on a restricted diet...gdy(as much as we can)-free. I get to

cook a lot of different foods..each meal, and brother and sister

think they are 'special' too, so they want to be noticed, as well.

If I attend Benji's school..he doesn't hardly acknowledge me. If I

go to brother or sister's schools (yes, all attended different

elementary schools at the same time, as brother has aspergers) they

cling to me, not wanting share me with anyone else. Kinda

embarassing. Just so proud of their mommy...very humbling, as I know

I'm nothing great.

And yes, I can't die...not until after Benji...something no 'normal'

mother would want to say. I can't consider his brother or sister not

having the opportunity of their own lives as adults. My husband has

reumatoid arthritis. Anyway, I'm afraid of what could be done to

Ben, especially sexually, as he can't communicate...if in the care

of 'strangers'.

It's hard...you can't help but love your children, but it's hard for

us. I'm no saint. I don't pretend to be. I think we have a sacred

role to play in the scheme of things. I know that 90% of the kiddos

with 'just' ds are aborted...something I could never have

considered. Some people, off the cuff, say God never gives you more

than you can handle. Sometimes I want to tell them what I have going

on, but then they run away scared, usually...and won't talk to me for

a long time. I guess we (as parents to these, our 'special' ones)

are a lot stronger than we fully understand. I'm sure there will be

some considerations, come judgment time, for the work we did.

May God bless us all,

Ann