Beauty after the storm

We have all seen these words so many times. "you can't appreciate the sunshine unless you go through the rain." Or "you can't have true joy until you know true pain."

Well....I always told myself that I appreciate my blessings and yes, I see the point but I do think you can have sunshine even without storms. Until this past week, then I realized the truest meaning of this phrase.

Usually every evening Seth plays outside. We go up and down our street and play in our driveway.  This routine has become monotonous. Sometimes I feel blah about it, sometimes I take the moments to breath in fresh air and look up at the clouds. It's usually kind of refreshing.  Well the past week we didn't have this time.  Seth would scream most of the day. He was unable to play indoors. He could barely stop crying for 20 minutes before it started again.  He didn't even want to go outside, he didn't want to do anything. Not his favorite things or his routine either. Just scream, just cry.  Such a setback. It was horrible. Watching my sweet child miserable is the hardest thing in the world. Feeling so helpless and overwhelmed makes me miserable as well. 

Well, the other night he calmed down for a little while and then actually agreed to go outside! I tell you, that trip down our street with Seth...fresh air...his smile...I felt like I won the lottery! I was on cloud nine.  I've never been happier to do our "routine." 

Now I get it. I really enjoyed our "sunshine" moment after that storm. I soaked it in, I cherished each step. I was full of complete joy. Just seeing my sweet boy happy and playing, outside....magical. So maybe terrible storms do make you realize the sunshine.

I am always thankful for our good days. I'm always thankful for our health. For our family. I live being thankful. But that joy, that day...was extra joyful. Extra bright sunshine once our storm had passed.

Side lines

As Seth finished up his first year of preK 3 just last week, I still have an image in my mind.  Him standing alone on the playground...watching his friends play.  

Seth has always been one to stand on the side lines. He is extremely cautious.  He doesn't like the unpredictability of others. I remember at his mothers day out program, he wouldn't go near the toy box.  Too much hustle and bustle around there.  His teachers kept a small airplane in a cabinet.  When he would go there two mornings each week, that's what he played with...alone.  For two years.  

The same airplane. I just can help but wonder if Seth thinks to himself why he can't do what the other kids are doing.  Why he can't hop into the fun jump with his cousins or walk through a group of people to go find a toy.  Does he care? Does he see the difference? Or is he content and satisfied being on the sidelines where he feels safe?  

Of course as his parent it hurts to see him standing alone. Watching. Standing. Alone. I wish he could interact more often.  But maybe my heart is the only one feeling this way, maybe Seth is just fine.  Maybe one day I will know how he feels about this.  Maybe it will get better, maybe we will find better tools to help Seth along.  

I just want Seth to know that he is incredible.  Just because he stands alone and doesn't do all that the other children do...that he is amazing. He works so hard everyday.  He works just to do what we all take for granted as simple.  He works to learn what we all learn and comprehend without even trying. Seth is my hero.  I want him to know that even when he's standing alone, he is never alone. I have his back. I'm right there buddy, I love you and I'm proud of you no matter what.

Moments

It has been too long since I've written. I am trying to get back in action. So I'm just going to pick up writing from now. I can't try and backtrack that would just be overwhelming to attempt :)

Yesterday Seth was having a hard time after nap. No child should ever have to experience pain of any kind.  Seth was in pain, pain with no voice, no apparent cause.  He was crawling in his own skin. Unable to stop kicking, screaming and crying.  I picked him up and swaddled him in his blanket and held him as tight as I could. I told him "mommy will rock you until you feel better, mommy is here." Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth..the kicking stopped, the crying ceased and I fell him relax. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...I must have rocked him for 20 minutes.  His eyes on the ceiling stimming side to side as if to try and calm himself.   He was in a trance and then he looked at me, right into my eyes and just stared.  Stared with a look of innocence, dependence and gratitude. Almost as if he wanted to say "thank you mommy, I couldn't calm down on my own." it was a tender moment. Continuing to rock he pointed to the door. He was ready to get off the bed and out of the room and try to move forward.  I carried him to the couch where he laid on my chest for another half hour.  He then got up with a smile and went to play with his cars.  It isn't always easy and is often heartbreaking...but I know Seth knows I'm here for him and I love him more than anything...through the rough and tough and tiring, o how I love my innocent little boy.