Ready, set, go…
Photos courtesy of Myra Wike Photography
I try to be really honest here. So I’m going to share something tough with you.
Adelaide’s birthday is hard for me. Not just because it falls in December. But because it brings up fears, questions, and this gnawing sadness that another year has passed us by. Sure, I’m happy that we get to celebrate her. But my daughter turns 4 this weekend and my mind is reeling with how little we gained and how much farther behind we are with every day crossed off a calendar. It’s not logical. Rationale says, “It is what it is. She’s making progress. Rejoice.” My mom heart counters with, “I need to clean the highchair for food time. I need to let everyone know she outgrew size 5 diapers and needs size 6. Does she even care that we’re having a party? Cancel.” Every year, I want to cancel and spend my own child’s special day hiding under covers. But I keep going. And this year has actually been the worst. I almost cancelled our family brunch 12 times. And even know, I’m thinking of canceling. I didn’t finish decorating. I have no food. I’m buying her Wal-Mart cinnamon rolls for her cake. This party is going to be a direct reflection of my broken spirit. It’s not what I had intended. I spent hours pinning things to her birthday board. I had grand vision for this birthday. This time to honor one of my favorite people. To start a new year. And maybe that’s why it’s been so incredibly difficult. We are starting a year that will be full of difficulty and changes, and I wasn’t expecting 2016 to usher in such a hard season. It was sprung on me. Unlike Adelaide’s birthday, which I’ve been planning since last Christmas. But plans can only take you so far when your soul won’t follow through. And this special needs mom is between happiness of surviving another year and feeling downtrodden for surviving another year, but falling so incredibly short. And trying to figure out which drool bib will look cute with a birthday dress sucked the wind right out of the Pinterest sails. Adelaide’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s party became a breakfast. Just like that.
Join me at http://www.katemotaung.com with your own five minutes of raw, unedited, and probably-shouldn’t-be-sharing thoughts. It’s cathartic, at least.