The Blame Game

I've spent the past few months blaming myself for all of A's suffering. What parent doesn't question what they could have done better or changed when their child is diagnosed with a disease. I try to think back to pregnancy. I never ate sushi, I avoided all deli meats, never smoked, took my prenatal pills. Could it have been that occasional glass of red wine the doctor said would be fine? Maybe it was when I was supposed to be on bed rest but I had to chase a 15 month old around. Or maybe I should have breastfed longer then the 19 months I managed to get through. All of these things go through my head at least once a week.

I blame myself. I've beat myself down. I've cried uncontrollably while sitting on the floor of the shower. I've questioned getting out of bed because I was just not ready to deal and have even been medicated with anxiety pills and antidepressants.

It is the hardest thing I have ever gone though in my life.

And yet it's not even close to being as hard as everything A goes though on a daily basis.

We struggle as a family daily. I fight to keep my eyes open just to have 30 minutes quality time with the husband. I see the tired look in his eyes after dealing with a difficult A day and then having to comfort me as I cry from a long, exhausting day.

I'm just starting to learn that the more I blame myself, the more energy I take away from helping my baby boy. Yes, a good cry feels incredible and just as A fidgets to release his anxiety, I cry to release my own anxiety. 

As our journey continues, I've started to realize that educating myself rather then playing the blame game is the only way to help my hyper happy child.