The words came from my son's new nursing aid, working her fist case with my special needs boy. She is a young mother with a young child who hasn't thrown up much in his life.
My son on the other hand, is 13 years old, has his certain needs along with reflux and a bad gag reflex. He has been throwing up frequently since the day he was born. And I didn't know why this comment from her was so thought provoking for me at first, but I did reflect on how at one time in my life, seeing vomit just turned my stomach and I would run off in the opposite direction, glad it wasn't my responsibility to clean it up. But when you're mom, it becomes your responsibility. A few days later I shared a blog post from someone else about how God doesn't choose strong people to be special needs parents, as well meaning people like to say. Actually, the writer stated, we get strong because we are special needs parents. We build strength because we are forced to. And I thought of how that vomit dealing skill my aid marveled at that night, after I had been dealing with it every day for two weeks, due to the flu coming to our house and turning into residual congestion that wouldn't let go, was kind of like a muscle as they say. You build a muscle to be stronger by working it, and something that used to cause me fear or discomfort has become so commonplace in my life. I had no choice but to face it. I had to work the muscle whether I wanted to or not. And now? Well refer to the first line. It's no thing anymore.
Then this conversation in passing where I just replied that you simply get used to it after a while, it got me thinking about other analogies people have made and how it applies to my life as a mom to a boy whose childhood has been different than most.
Eleanor Roosevelt said "A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water."
Again, there isn't much choice, is there? You build the strength or you die, basically. Or if not, you live in despair over what isn't the way you wish it was, and you let circumstances rob you of all joy.
Then there is that story about boiling water, and I do not know who to attribute it to, but I do remember it going around in several email forwards years ago. It's the story of the mom telling her daughter to observe how when you put an egg in hot water, it becomes hard, when you put carrots in hot water, they become soft, but when you put coffee in hot water, it changes the water. And of course we are supposed to be the ones who want to change the environment and make it better. I want to be the one who is placed into a tough situation and changes the situation because I have allowed myself to be changed inwardly in positive ways. Which leads me to someone else I know who has the ability to change water into something else. And He can also walk on it. And He can command it to be still when it rages in the sea. Jesus changes the condition of the water, and everything else. He is in me, and that is why I never truly broke while I had to keep building the muscles I didn't think I had. And He is the reason I know the atmosphere will keep changing for us, as the progress we have made slowly will just keep growing and growing until my child is well and doing all he needs to do for himself. I have always said there are things about autism and Fragile X I would take away in a heartbeat, but at the same time, I am grateful for the experience and how it has made me stronger, better and able to take on anything else because the One who changes the water has changed me.
