Guilt

               So this one is a little hard to write.  Nonetheless, I definitely feel the need for it to be written.  I want to spend a little time talking about something that parents of disabled kids really don't talk about a lot. Guilt. Terrible, awful, nerve wracking, exhausting guilt.  I carry quite a bit.  My daughter's disability was caused by a birth injury.  What if I had gone to the hospital earlier instead of taking a shower when I was in labor?  Should I have sued when every lawyer on the planet approached me?  How much did I neglect my then teenage daughter when her sister was little and oh so fragile?  How much was I  not there for Hippie Pants when her sister was in the hospital?  How many things do I get wrong with Feisty Pants on a daily basis?  How the hell do I know when I've gotten it right?   You do the best you can and muddle along, I know.  But these thoughts creep out and bite you hard when no one is watching.

                I am writing this post for two reasons.   One, I am in a unique position.  I grew up with disabled siblings, so I have seen this festering guilt we all carry from both sides.  And for literally, all my life. It can make anyone crazy if you let it fester.  At the very least, sit with it and then move on.  Guilt is a terrible beast.  Give it the respect it deserves. And then slay it and move along.  I want to let other parents  just starting this journey know that its not only them.  We all feel it.  And it will get much, much better.  You will find a thousand ways to cope.  You will celebrate a million miracles.  One day you will start to be able to look back and think, "Damn, I lived through that?  We must be ok, then."

                 The other reason, is much more personal.  Hippie Pants is now going through her third jolting, heart stopping major life change since January.  Two of them have been awful.  In fact, this last jolt can only be called horrific.  (An awful crime has happened to close friends of hers.)  I worry that my beautiful sensitive artsy hippie daughter has just handed too much death and destruction for any 23 year old to go through intact.  And all my fears of did I throw her to the wolves emotionally, when she was a teen and I was practically living in a hospital  come flooding back hard. Have I been mother enough to prepare her for what is often a frightening and confusing world?  Damn, but guilt has sharp teeth.  I worry more she will let anger harden her gorgeous heart and make her cynical and bitter.  And so, I write this even though I am actually not all that comfortable with letting all of you peek so far into my own dark corners.  If I want her to let her beautiful dazzling heart shine like it should, maybe I have to agree to be a little vulnerable too.  And then, hope like hell she finds a thousand ways to cope without shutting herself down.  And, maybe just maybe,  I can do a little good and let other parents know they can face their own guilt too.

              I wish you all peace.