One year plus with an amazing man. Sweet, honest, gorgeous, hard-working, loving, sacrificing. Gorgeous. I have been so sick, and he has seen us through. My son is reading. READING. He is developmentally disabled, missing part of his brain, and he is READING. In part due to the man's unrelenting support. I was so terrified, so ashamed at the courageous path I have taken. I bucked the system, friends, family, mainstream medicine. It worked, it worked wonders, but it was one helluva riky bet. I honestly don't think I could have done it without his unrelenting support.

The gorgeous man in question was most terrified of having a child with special needs, and then he learned...to love. And my boy has thrived under his care.

This gorgeous man has been by my side, listened to me rant and rave, more times than I care to remember. He has been supportive, loving, a shoulder to cry on.

And I broke up with him. It was less something I wanted to do than something I felt compelled to do, had to do. He deserved better. He deserves a woman who is overjoyed to see him when he walks in the door, a woman who loves him unconditionally. I am, most unfortunately not that woman. I love him deeply, and somehow, this is not it, he is not the one.

With him, I feel compressed, fenced in, not myself. I feel like I hold my breath and try to reign myself in, to cut off the corners that don't fit. Cutting off those corners makes me feel claustrophobic, lonelier with him than without.

I wish that things were different, but they are not. I want my heart to follow my head, but that's not how it works.

I want my son to learn from my example, to marry for love, because he couldn't imagine a life without someone. Is that so wrong?

Oh god, how I wish that I could make it work. It would be sweet and simple, and loving...and I can't do it. It's just not there.

And this sweet, sweet man, is in so much pain from my decision. It didn't even feel like a decision, more like a we deserve better and I can't do this, like it was just something I had to do. I am so sorry for causing him so much pain. I just pray (and I ain't one to pray) that he finds a good woman who loves him and that he can become the father he is so meant to be. The mama just ain't going to be me.

I hope to god that I am not scarring my sweet son with my decision. Somehow it will all be okay.

I have work to do. And I need to do it alone right now. I need friends and work, and of course my boy. And at the end of the day, there's just not enough left to go around. I have been shorting myself, but I just can't do it anymore.

Hi all,

I need to go to an autism/lyme medical conference in April to learn about treatments to help my son recover. I am also incredibly broke from paying for our medical treatments while laid off for the last year. If anyone has a couch or floor to crash on near Indian wells CA for four days, I would much appreciate it. It will only be me as I can't afford airfare for my son as well. I am happy to clean your bathroom, rake your leaves, do your laundry, buy you groceries, whatever in exchange for a couch to crash on. I will be at the conference most of the 4 days. Thanks mamas.

My boy was student of the month. Last year I was called in once a week to tell me that my parenting was sub-par, that my boy was not going ot make it in kindergarten if I didn't get him in line behaviorally. Exhausted, sick, almost to tired to care, I pursued the medical side of things and did my best with the day to day behvioral, emotional issues. And I put one foot in front of the other...and lo and behold. His teachers this year tell me nothing but good things. He tries so hard, he's so well-behaved, HE'S SO KIND. The outside world is now recognizing the boy I saw all along.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigqKfLWjvM

Check out the contest at http://mssinglemama.com/
This year I want to...
Stop settling. I want to only have the best. I want to let go of taking whatever scraps and hand me downs are passed my way, taking whatever job I can get because it's good money and a short commute, wearing clothes that don’t fit me and that I feel disheveled, ugly and fat in…a house, any house in a decent neighborhood to replace the scarlet letter of single-mama on my forehead with another stamp…the American dream..the stamp of homeowner.
I have worked very hard and come such a long way, but the endless compromises I have made are perhaps somewhat unnecessary? I think perhaps I do too many things because I think they are what I should be doing. As hard as it is to admit, I bought a house partly to combat the feelings of inadequacy I felt at being behind my friends in accomplishments. For a little while being able to say, “my house”, these two flats are mine, this driveway, these floors, these walls are mine. I am a landlady. I renovated the first floor flat (with the gracious help of family and friends.) It worked for awhile. It raised eyebrows for my young entrepeneurship instead of my young (perhaps miscalculated) single motherhood. They balanced eachother out in some weird way.
But in exchange I gave up a lot of time, sweat, blood and energy that if I had focused on what I truly want out of life…I might spend that energy differently. It’s not too late. It can always be sold, rented out, demolished by an act of god. The pride of homeownership is in me, but maybe there was nothing to be ashamed of in the first place, in my beautiful perfectly imperfect family. Maybe there was no need to balance it out in the first place. I know I can do this, be a homeowner & landlady. I have proven that, so now I have to choose, do I want to do this?
I have a lot of shame from being a single mother and I am trying to let that go and move on. I have felt that my son’s missing part of his brain is somehow my fault. It is not. That guilt is not helping anyone. I have spent five years hunting down the reason for his disability and I have finally found it, and it had nothing to do with my choices. I thought it would be some massive release, that the shame and gult of having a disabled child would just disappear overnight, once I could medically prove it was not my fault. The green tea, the couple of diet cokes, the beer or two before I knew, the 10 cigarettes I had while pregnant, after I should have known better didn’t cause his disability. The out of wedlock birth, my young age, my lack of a college degree did not cause his disability.
Neither did the 5 servings of vegetables I religiously ate, or the state of the art prenatal care I sought out and worked two jobs to pay for, or the fact that I chose life, or that I turned my life completely around at the news of my son’s impending arrival, none of those heroic things done through sheer strength, willpower , work and staying power, protected him from disability. Somehow my son and his disability and now mine, are meant to shape us into just who we are supposed to be. It is time to let go of this guilt and shame. If there even was a crime, I have paid tenfold. I am done.
I have so many good things that I have done, accomplished and am.
-I have supported my son by myself for 4.5 out of 5 years.
- I held my head as high as I could as I delivered newspapers to my former friends parents houses in the suburbs, because it allowed me enough money to be home with my beamish boy all day. (I never should have been ashamed in the first place for providing for my little family the best way I knew how.)
- I finished my bachelor’s degree paying my own way through for the last 2.5 years. Magna cum Laude. 3.68 GPA. Hard won. Skipped class to do work to pay the bills and skipped work to do schoolwork to pass the classes I worked so hard to pay for. Straight A’s till I realized that an “A” in class would never absolve my sins. (Perhaps I never really sinned to begin with? Just made choices a naive child would make and then did the best I could with what I had.)
-I bought a house in a neighborhood on the edge. On the verge of greatness I still hope. But on the edge nonetheless. I learned to hold my head up high even as tenants’ friends laughed, “you’re landlord is like…12.” Yup. And don’t you ever doubt that I have the strength of ten men. I learned to evict.
I picked better tenants the next time around, nah, great tenants. I learned to lay kitchen floor, wire bathroom light fixtures, regrade around the foundation to eliminate mold, paint, sand, make it someplace I could be proud living, proud to rent out. And even when the neighbors shot all my hopes to hell and drank forties on the porch and smoked a blunt at 4pm, and heckled me while I sweated in the sun. I planted bulbs and weeded and created beds in the front yard while watching my son, my gorgeous son make his way in the world with a sense of home. And a youthful naivety that allowed him to run his chubby legs and never notice the despair around him. This is our home. And when the neighbors fought loudly and cursed the very children they brought into this world, I held my ground. I planted new grass seed in my stubbornly shady yard, and sanded, and painted. I had the house renovated to energy efficient standards. I plant flowers in the porch planters. And I will buy a rocking chair and put it out front. Because this is my home for now…and when it’s a rental, it will not scream “Slumlords own this place.” Not while I own it.
- And I spent years researching my son’s disability. The possible causes, the possible treatments, the best doctors, clinics, hospitals in the world. And occasionally I bridge jumped naked with a stranger just to make sure I was still alive.
-And I found the cause and against all rational advice I followed a crazy far out medical plan and a gluten free, casein free, soy free, corn free (Well, what the hell is left you ask?) diet…and…it worked. My son has gone from very developmentally disabled and struggling in the world, to making amazing progress in less than 6 months, he is now reading at 5 years old. That’s not too shabby especially missing part of your brain.
-I took a massive leap this year to focus on our health. I took 10 months off from work this year, financial suicide, (I racked up more than a little debt in the process). But in the end, my reasons were solid. I found good medical treatment, slept a lot, took better care of myself and took stock of my life. I have healed emotionally in so many ways. Family drama is fading into the background. You make your choices and I’ll make mine.
- And I fought a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. And I won. And I am 90% better physically.
-And I found a job and I fought my shame and embarrassment ofM.S./Pparkinson’s like loss of muscle control to the point of not being able to walk or talk. And I got up every day for the last two months and said I am here and ready to work. Here is my exemplary work, despite being terrified and petrified and ashamed and twitching like a mofo, “Just pretend I’m like Will Smith Gettin’ Jiggy wit it.” And my work has appreciated my work, on its’ merits alone.
And I am here. I am here and I am 90% better physically, and my boy is recovering amazingly.
And I still have work to do. I deserve to be happy. I can make choices to make my life easier and it is not a copout to move closer to my job so that I can get an hour to myself instead of commuting in rush hour traffic. And it is not a copout to get a babysitter on Tuesday nights so that I can write my pain down and exorcise it from my soul so that I can show up tomorrow and be a better stronger, happier mama. I am allowed to be happy. I must be happy to show my beamish boy how. I must learn to carve a strong and courageous path to teach my boy that he is not disabled. That he has amazing gifts for this world and that they are more than enough to counteract whatever deficits the world may think he has.
That there was never anything wrong with us in the first place. So there is no reason to settle, to accept less than what we want.
So this year I plan to go for it, leap first, the net will appear. Take the time and space I need to be happy. My son needs to see his mama happy to know how to be happy. If I want him to be happy, I have to show him how, and part of that is in not compromising. I need a little more faith, in god, the universe myself…or something. There must be a great plan for us.
This year I will:
-Rip the band-aid off, speak my my truth in a respectful way and know that there is no shame in that, and in fact great things come from speaking the truth.
-Make space, make time for my friends, my music, my art whatever form that may take, no matter how simple, pathetic, or silly it seems.
-Love my boy just the way he is and yet still hold in my heart a vision of boundless possibilities for us both.
-And I will somehow enjoy life along the way and stop feeling guilty when I somehow manage to be happy.
This I will do. This I pray.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. On a dark and stormy night, the wind picked up and howled. It rattled the windows. A gust blew open the front door, flew up the stairs, and blew out her soul’s pilot light. In the dark she groped around for light, but there was none. One day she awoke to a flutter in the belly. A flopping fish churned her insides and squeezed her lungs. 9 months later the fish flipped the switch and relit the pilot light on his way out. He flopped onto shore and as the sun dried the water off of his glistening skin, he was transformed into a golden haired boy. Ordinary looking but for his shining eyes. He grinned up at the girl and she knew that he was no ordinary fish.

Hey all, quick update. I am 95% better and slowly weaning off of my antibiotics. My son has just started his treatment and is progressing nicely. I am extremely grateful to be getting my brain, body and life back. It's been 6 months of craziness, but in the end I learned a lot and continue to grow from the experience. Thanks for all your support along the way!

I am working on Ethan's lyme disease and food allergies. His doc and other docs theorize that the health issues and food allergies stress little bodies and brains out and make them act out behaviorally.

So far on a gluten, casein, soy, corn and preservative free diet, Ethan's behavior seems to be improving. He seems calmer, much more focused, more easy going, more flexible etc. His speech is much clearer and more coherent on the diet. He used to string 2-5 sentences together that had nothing to do with eachother. IE: Mom! I like my bike. Can we go to school tommorrow? where's my car? What's that? Mom! MOm! I want to see Santa.

On the diet they seem to be more like: Mom! At school we're reading The Big Bad Wolf. And the big bad wolf is mean and scary. I don't like the big bad wolf.

I work with a counselor on behavioral issues that crop up with kids with special needs. We've been working a lot on me creating more routine and structure, which was a HUGE problem while I was dealing with the worst part of lyme disease. I developed wicked ADD and couldn't even focus enought to make a pot of coffee because I got the steps mixed up/distracted. I would put water in the pot, but forget to pour it into the machine. Grind the coffee beans and put them in a filter but forget to put them into the coffee machine. I would come back ten minutes later like where is the coffee? Do another step and then still not understand ten minutes later why there was no coffee when I hadn't turned the machine on or put the water in. I went from being able to clean the house in less than an hour- Throw a load of laundry in, throw the dishes in the dishwasher, declutter and clean while I waited for the dishes and laundry. During the worst of lyme/ADD I couldn't even clean my house, I would spend hours frustrated and extrememly confused and finally give up. I forgot to turn the washer on, got distracted, forgot to put detergent in etc.

Now that I'm much better cognitively, everything is so much easier. I can focus, read for hours, do a list of complicated things with multiple steps and complete them in a reasonable amount of time. I'm much more consistent with behavior etc.

The conflict now is between the counselor and I. She wants me to create even more structure and routine and I think we're good with what we've got. I'm focusing a lot of energy on reading about lyme and autism/ADHD treatments and how to treat the underlying medical issues. She wants me to focus more on the routine and day to day discipline. I feel like trying to improve Ethan's behavior with rewards systems and behavioral plans is somewhat of a waste of time right now. It's like trying to push a wheelbarrow full of heavy rocks up a hill. I want to approach the issue by tossing as many rocks out of the wheelbarrow as possible and then work on pushing the wheelbarrow up the hill.

I think in the end we're both right, that Ethan needs consistent routines, discipline, consequences and structure, but also that a lot of his behavioral issues will resolve as his brain isn't so inflamed.

At the worst of my lyme ADD/confusion, I tried making lists, reading up on ADD friendly organization etc. and tried extremely hard, but I still could not make coffee or clean my house. I basically gave up and did the best I could but mostly focused on getting the proper medical treatment/nutritional support to bring my body and brain back online.

Now that the treatement piece is over the hump, everything else is easily falling into place. I clean the house, remember appointments, stick to a better schedule and routine etc.

Any thoughts?

We went to see Ethan's lyme pediatrician and got his test results. It looks like my boy is allergic to gluten and casein, and most likely corn and soy as well. The doc has prescribed a gluten free, casein free, sugar free, preservative free, dye free, corn free, soy free...holy crap. diet. "What am I supposed to feed him?" I asked. His body is mercury poisoned, most likely from vaccines.

Jusst after the doc appointment I was laid off...again. My boss called, he expected me to have questions, something to say. His first question was, "Having fun?" Yeah, disability is a picnic. No part time work for me. Ah well. In the grand scheme of things, I just didn't really give a crap.

We start the GFCF diet tommorrow. I spent 2 hours in the grocery store staring at everything, reading ingredients and trying to pick out a week's worth of food that Ethan can eat. I will go into school tommorrow, doctor's note in hand to explain that my sweet boy is allergic to practically everything and that we have to try this diet for a month, no cheating whatsoever.

We also start an anti-yeast regimin and an alternative supplement to chelate the mercury out of his body. I know in my heart that this doc is right, but this all sounds completely nuts. I feel at odds with 98% of the world.

After 2 months of yeast and diet treatment, we will finally start antibiotic treatment to kiill the lyme in Ethan's tiny body. I may get my boy back out of all of this, but god does it feel hard.

On the plus side, my treatment is kikcing in, my mind is slowly but surely coming back online. I finally tested positive for lyme disease, which means that insurance is more likely to pay for my ridiculously expensive treatment. My periods came back after a 2 year hiatus. I can think and sleep 8-9 hours instead of 12-18. I can think somewhat straight. I know who people are and I can remember how to get most places. I'm not in constant debilitating pain. I no longer twitch like I have Parkinson's. I'm at a point where like this, I could work at least part time.

So now all I need is a very flexible job that is 20-30 hours per week, pays 17-20 bucks an hour and allows me a floating schedule to fit in my intramuscular shots 3X a week at the doctor's, along with Ethan's crazy medical treatments.

So I'm putting it out there. The universe has always provided and I know that soon it will provide again.

I will never be the same. I hope that this is a good thing, that I will develop reserves of patience, strength, wisdom, empathy that would have been unfathomable even a year ago.

say screw the fear and pedal through it.

Learning to let go...the hard way. Mountain biking as painful behavioral therapy to retrain the mind to focus on the here and now.

Just before I got sick I started mountain biking. Mind you, I looked like I had been hit by a car at first, I was covered head to toe in bruises from wacking trees and falling when my mind wandered. My doctor thought I was in an abusive relationship LOL. I told her it was the best relationship I'd ever been in. A relationship with myself and my bike. Eventually just getting in the car to drive up to the trails my mind would get quiet and shut up. I'd blast music on the way up and after a hard ride and a beer with the club, drive home beat, smiling and at peace. It trained my brain how to find that place, and then I could keep finding that place.
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Thanks for the vibes. God I missed me. We still have a long road ahead of us, but I can see it again, the light at the end of the tunnel.

My son and I have late stage lyme disease. It affects the brain and nervous system. I got such bad brain fog and memory problems that I had to stop working. While I wait for the docs and the disability insurance company to duke it out, we have run out of money. I am being treated, and hopefully will be back to work in a month or two, but things are tight and treatment is expensive and often not covered by insurance.

For I will have finally engraved into my soul, the words of Khalil Gibrahn.
“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”

Mama and babe have lyme. Babe, congenital lyme, mama neurological lyme. Happy go lucky, ambitious passionate good mama dissolves into puddle of goo. Trying to find the way out.

I have made the courageous jump from non-profit to business. I have burned myself out jumping through all of the hoops; to do what I'm supposed to do, and still I'm here. I am here, a shell of my former self, stronger, but yet sicker and more exhausted.

I have done everything right, so right that I recently earned my company's division and company-wide awards.

I am indeed a usefull little engine. "This shit's not life threatening?" I got it covered. Watch me vanquish it's silly punk ass. This shit is nothing.

I am the mother of a special needs son, he was not supposed to walk, or talk. I learned sign langage and slowly weaned him off it. He now walks and talks, and talks...and runs and climbs...and climbs. I speak fluent toddler and CPSE (Committe on Preschool Special Education), I am halfway to a doctor with my understanding of neuorology, genetics, microbiology.

I am a smart girl with the kindest heart, and the most unbelievable sex drive. I need intelligent conversation like a fish needs water. I need help around the house, I need help letting go, and help holding on.

It's been a long time since I posted. I am the single mama of a 4 year old superhero boy with some special needs. I have left an abusive relationship to raise my son alone. I have dropped out of college with crappy grades, gone back, graduated with a 3.7 GPA from one of the best schools in my field, while raising my son and starting a non-profit project to help other parents reach their dreams, while being told that my son probably had a fatal disease 3+ times.

I have to find a new job soon in order to make ends meet. I interviewed for what I thought was the perfect job today, HUGE increase in pay, closer than my current job, room for advancement etc. They said that the position requires an average of 2 days a week of travel, as in leave at 5am, catch train to fun city,present all day, overnight in hotel, present all day, back late the next day. Sometimes I would go for weeks without any travel, a few times per year, I would have to travel 3-4 days in a row.
"Are you still interested?" the director asks.
crap, I don't know.
Pros:

how do I love this child unconditionally, but renounce him so completely in the same breath, getting my tubes tied so that I will not "risk" having another child just like him?

I have been struggling lately. The test results show my son is severely retarded. I vasicillate between thinking they are so full of shit, no child this mischievous, this curious, this empathetic; that cureous george's struggles bring tears to his 3 year old eyes, this brilliant, willful, beautiful boy could not possibly be retarded. this my boy, my only child, as I cannot have anymore children, my one shot, cannot possibly be retarded. And yet, he rides the short bus.

1. To make steady progress, to prosper.
2. To grow vigorously, flourish.

What would it mean for you to be thriving?

If I were "thriving" I would...

"Your mother cannot love 75% of who you are, and she never will, you are killing yourself living at 25%. Knock it the fuck off! Oh yeah, and...

BUY MILK and juiceboxes.

That emptiness you feel is all the stuff you let go of in order to try to win mom's love, you have let go of so much, and yet, she still does not love you, you are sad.

When you struggle up and manage to break the surface, she tries to drag you back under.

This year I graduated from college, my son was dignosed as missing part of his brain, having seizures, and a genetic disorder that is passed on through the mother. I have been told I probably should not have any more children. I have worked for the last 2.5 years to finish school and buy this house. I finished school with a 3.7 gpa. I bought the house. I feel nothing. I met a great guy, I dumped him a few weeks ago, my life is too hard, too hard for my friends, too hard for men, too hard for me, but there is noone else to take my place if I crumble.

I went to Boston. Moe was more work than help, so I asked him to stay home. I had no schedule, no to dos all weekend, just time. Ethan dialed 911 on speeddial at the hotel. The hotel was not pleased, but it made me think of fire trucks. We were driving around, lost looking for a target to buy swimmy diapers for the hotel pool and a map of Boston.

jj

Dear Ethan,
You have just turned 3. You are an incredibly sweet, empathetic, affectionate, stubborn, wonderful boy, the best son a mama could ask for. You are a bit frustrated lately, from having whirring thoughts in your mind that just won’t come out. For your birthday, we had a BIG pancake day with only people that you like.