Like so many others, I’ve spent the last 24 hours in shock, anger and deep sadness. I never thought I’d be one to cry over politics, but my face was wet with hot tears many times today. Today, I let myself feel it all, especially the anger.

• I’m angry that 80% of Christians elected a man who in no way shows Christ to the world.

• I’m angry that my daughter will turn 4 years old on the very day Trump is sworn into office: a man whose own words have over and over again degraded her gender.

• I’m angry that America’s first black president will be succeeded by a president endorsed by the KKK.

• I’m angry that so many consider this a victory for the unborn, when there is no evidence that Trump is pro-life, but there is overwhelming evidence that he sees little value in many, many lives who are already here.

• I’m angry that immigrants, Muslims and blacks have been stereotyped and used as political props instead of acknowledged as REAL PEOPLE

• I’m angry for my friend who is terrified her special needs children will lose their medical coverage.

• I’m angry for my friend whose five year old child, who is black, said “Donald Trump doesn’t like families like ours.”

• I’m angry that I have many, many other friends who are genuinely fearful as to what this means for their families, marriages, and access to medical care.

• I’m angry for those who had to explain to their children this morning that their country chose a bully as the winner of the election. I’m feel both relief and guilt that my children are too young to have to discuss this.

• I’m angry with all the “God is in control” rhetoric that is everywhere today. Yes, that’s true, but it doesn’t erase the hurt that so many marginalized people are feeling. God’s control doesn’t stop people from making horrible decisions that horribly affect people’s lives.

• I’m angry that white privilege is so prevalent in my community, and yet so many are so naïve to the implications of that privilege.

I know I can’t live, or survive, in this anger. Despite my emotions, Donald Trump is going to be President in January. Nothing I say or feel will change that. Tomorrow, I hope to turn this anger into more resolve to make an impact where I can: in my home, for my friends, and in my community.

I’m a former teacher and current stay at home mom. I don’t own a pantsuit.

So instead I’m wearing white today, in honor of women’s suffrage, my daughter and the glass ceiling that’s going to be shattered tonight. 

#imwithher

#WORK

Social media and all its dynamics is so interesting to me. I use Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, but predominately Facebook for interacting with people I know personally. I looooveee Twitter, but mostly follow people I don’t know in real life and I don’t tweet a lot myself, although I wish I did (I feel self conscious on Twitter because the people I follow are all so, so smart, witty and quick). Instagram I can take or leave; I like words and discussions more than pictures, and really have no interest in those perfectly curated, “beautiful people” pictures people put on there (and all the rest I see on Facebook for the most part anyway).

I really love a good online debate, if it’s respectful. And I know I’m in the minority, but I do think a Facebook discussion can change minds, or at least cause someone to think about an issue in a different way. I always finish a Facebook debate with things to consider and ponder further, which I think is always a good thing. I fight the urge to comment only to “win”, but to really try to understand the reasons behind a different point of view.

This election season, I’ve posted several political articles that I thought inspired critical thinking and discussion. So much of what I see on Facebook is a bunch of people in an echo-chamber, posting stuff just to reaffirm what they and the majority of their friends believe anyway.  I love when I see posts or articles online that  challenge beliefs I’ve held for years. (Side note: America as a country needs a collective lesson on fact checking and how to discern legitimate news from bogus stories written by teenagers halfway across the world. Just sayin’).

I do understand there are lots of people who don’t use social media this way (to debate political or moral issues); they use it as an escape, and just want to see posts about people’s families or funny memes or lighthearted anecdotes. And that’s fine. I like that stuff too, but want a balance.

What I do not understand is when people block other people when they don’t agree with their views or even their lifestyle. And I’m not talking about when someone is abusive, obscene, or is causing their quality of life to decline because of an interaction online. Certainly, these are instances where someone should be blocked. I’m referring to blocking someone simply because of a differing point of view. Recently, I discovered (by accident) that I was blocked by someone who had previously unfriended me. I know I have very different views than a lot of my Facebook friends, but I don’t think (I hope) I am ever rude or degrading when I express those views. And I’m sure I’ve been unfollowed by people, which is fine, but to me, being unfollowed, or even unfriended, still leaves the door open for future interaction and possible discussions (maybe in person). But to be blocked feels so silencing and permanent.  I’m not losing sleep over it, because come on, it’s just Facebook, but it does make me roll my eyes and wonder what the motivation behind that decision was. To me, it sends the message that my opinions or how I live my life is so offensive that this person feels better off with me not existing.

I don’t ever want to stop reading or seeing posts by people who disagree with me because I don’t want to ever be in a place where I think I have all the answers because everyone around me is affirming everything I say and read. I will always read a legitimate article or post from the “other side” and often it challenges me to fine-tune my own positions.

Do you block people on social media? For what reasons?

I’ve followed this presidential election cycle really closely, and obviously have some really strong opinions about the candidates. I regularly listen to five political podcasts, participate in a Facebook group dedicated to having respectful, intelligent conversations on politics (loooove it), watched all the debates while closely following Twitter at the same time, and have read a ton of articles and posts from lots of intelligent people (on both sides) to learn all that I can. I voted early, and voted very differently than I have in the past. It’s 2016, and for the first time, I’m informed and invested in all this.

In 2012, Obama was running for re-election against Mitt Romney. I don’t remember one single thing about that campaign cycle, or election. I honestly can’t even remember if I voted or not (surely, I did, right? But I don’t have any memory of it). Why? Oh yeah, Grayson had been diagnosed with Leigh’s less than two months before election day, and I was fairly newly pregnant with my surprise baby who we didn’t know wasn’t also going to be born sick.

In 2012, my brain couldn’t handle much other than trying to survive the aftermath of two shocking, life-altering pieces of news. I highly doubt that who was going to be president the next four years even factored into any of my immediate thoughts or concerns.

Now, having emerged from the fog of G’s diagnosis, I realize that having a special needs, medically fragile child requires me to be invested in politics and have knowledge of what legislation is being passed that will directly affect my family.

When cuts are made to deny therapies and special education, that’s not an abstract, fiscal decision. That’s our life. The people receiving government assistance for medical care aren’t people who are “lazy” and “taking advantage of the system”- they’re us, a family who would be legitimately broke without Medicaid. So much of Grayson’s quality of life and our ability to give him the best medical care and education depends on decisions made by people we elect to make these choices on what money goes where. I have to pay attention, and I voted for the candidates and party that I believe will best serve disadvantaged populations and people truly in need of assistance.

I also have to factor in how the candidates value life, especially the lives of the vulnerable, disabled, and disadvantaged. (Please don’t turn this into an abortion debate; we can talk about that later and how I truly believe you can be politically pro-choice and hold all life in the highest esteem). I’ve really been struggling with the reality that so many people I love and admire deeply are voting for Trump. I feel genuine anger, and I know that’s not entirely fair. The anger is on me, and it’s my issue to deal with, and no one owes me an explanation. Most of the Trump supporters I know are kind hearted people who want the best for their families, my family, and the country. I truly believe they are voting not because of Trump’s disgusting behavior and insults, but in spite of them. I don’t think they are included in the Basket of Deplorables, although they are giving deplorable views a pass and a voice: a pass that shouldn’t be given and a voice that shouldn’t be heard.

After reading this article, I know why I’m so upset. I’m taking Trump votes personally because I see them as a slap in the face to my family and my son. I am really having an impossible time accepting that people who love my child and my family would say that they want someone to be president who sees my son (not to mention other groups of people) as “lesser”. Trump has repeatedly and unapologetically discriminated against and ridiculed women, immigrants, the disabled, and minorities. He bragged about sexual assault. In addition to friends also raising children with disabilities, I have friends who are immigrants, who are black, Hispanic, Muslim, and gay. There are people I love dearly who have been sexually assaulted. I take those votes personally for them, too.

If you are skeptical Trump doesn’t think less of people with intellectual disabilities or weak bodies given to them by genetics (as my son has), watch the video in this article. It’s horrifying.

This isn’t about Hillary Clinton. I understand that people have valid concerns about her candidacy and can’t vote for her. It’s not about the Republican party platform, or Supreme Court nominations. This is about this candidate, in this election. Those voting for Trump are casting their votes not just for his policies, but as tolerance for his hateful and bigoted views against marginalized and vulnerable people. They may not hold those views personally, but their support is amplifying the views of many others who do.

Yesterday morning, G’s nurse, who had been with him all night, told me that he’s thrown up formula about an hour before. G throws up all the time, but because his feeding tube bypasses his stomach and goes into his intestine, throwing up his food is not normal. I called and cancelled his school bus, texted his teacher that he wouldn’t be at school, and we headed to the ER.

The X-ray of his abdomen showed that his tube was in the right place, so the doctors were stumped. He was a little congested, but wasn’t acting sick or that he didn’t feel well, so they decided not to run labs or do any IV fluids, so after a few hours, we were sent home (with no explanation as to why there was formula coming up, but he did throw up twice in the ER and it was clear, so…whatever).

At 11:00 last night, G woke us up with his retching. It wasn’t normal though, he was really struggling to catch his breath and sounded really croupy. This went on and on for at least 10 minutes and at one point we wondered whether we should call an ambulance. We hooked him up to some oxygen, and thankfully that calmed his breathing, but he was still agitated and was now running a fever. Ugh. After about an hour, we got him back to sleep and he slept the rest of the night. He had a low grade fever this morning but was acting much better.

I put him down for a nap at 11:30 and he slept for seven hours. Seven. He woke up less than an hour again and sounds gunky and was struggling again when he threw up. We have him hooked up to oxygen right now and are just kind of hanging out waiting to see which way this is going to go.

Very rarely do we make it through an illness without a hospital admission. G’s broken body just can’t fight it off on his own. I’m really irritated that we’ve already been to the hospital once this weekend. Maybe, just maybe, he can ride this one out at home.

Even sick, he’s just so dang cute.

 

A few weeks ago I turned thirty seven. What a strange age; not quite “almost forty” but far past thirty five. Technically I’ve now been an adult longer than I was a child, although really I was nowhere near an “adult” at 18. It’s a fine age to be, I guess. Meh.

Some thoughts from here, about 3/4 through my thirties:

• I’m really bad at prioritizing self care. I can self-comfort with the best of them, but as for truly taking care of myself, I’m failing. I need to do better, but gah, I’m just so tired. And have too many children who can’t stay at home by themselves (or really be in a room by themselves for any length of time). 
• This election season has rocked my world and has me really unsettled. I’m questioning everything- what I personally believe and value as well as who I want to trust and take advice from
• I’m wrestling a lot with my faith and with religion. I’ve realized a lot of what I was taught and bought into as a teenager affects me to this day, and not necessarily in a good way (hello, purity culture). But through the internet as well as with in-person conversations, I realize I’m not alone, which is comforting. More on this later.
• I’m becoming bolder in speaking out about everything. As a (former/recovering/work in progress) people pleaser, I’m proud of myself. I hope that I can raise a daughter who is not afraid to speak her own opinions and risk pushback. I think maybe that’s easier to learn as a kid than in my thirties.
• It’s really, really hard to talk about myself in terms other than as a mother and how I relate to my children. But maybe that’s an upside to this sort-of identity crisis I’m having- it’s given me something else to focus on.

The best thing I’ve done so far at 37- went to vote with this guy.

I signed up for NaBloPoMo, and I’m both really excited and terrified. I’ve always wanted to do a challenge like this (blogging every day for a solid month, weekends and holidays included) and I know if I succeed, I will be so glad that I did. But for the love, what am I going to write about for 30 days? Actually, I have a LOT I’d love to write about but I’m not sure if I should write about half of it. But I probably will, because 30 posts is a lot to hold back on what I’m really thinking.

When Grayson was a baby and we were in the process of him being diagnosed, I couldn’t get enough of blogging. Everything was new (both motherhood and special needs) and writing about it totally helped me process the new life I was thrown into, unprepared. Now, six years later, everything isn’t so new, and how many ways can you write about a life of diapers, vomit and grieving the loss of a life you once thought you’d had? (Ok, so maybe there’s a lot more to say about that last one).

If I step back and look at the whole picture, I do love my life. I have three gorgeous, silly, sticky, wonderful kids who I am immensely thankful for. I just sometimes have trouble looking at the whole picture. Day to day, minute to minute, things are hard. Physically hard, emotionally hard. Just hard. Exhausting. Something or someone always needs cleaning, and someone’s always needing or wanting something.

But I’m working on it. I know, I know I know there will be a day where I will look back at pictures of these chaotic days and will give anything to have them back. So maybe, this blog and the memories it preserves, not only of my children but of my evolution as a mother and a person, will bring me joy on those days. So here’s to 30 days of real, of honest, and of preserving the memories of this crazy time.

Dear Nolan,

I’ve got to be honest, this has been a rough month for you, and consequently, for me. You haven’t been yourself for weeks, and I’m blaming every bit of it on teeth. Teeth we have yet to meet because despite tormenting our family for the past 25 days or so, they have yet to make an appearance outside your swollen gums except for one front tooth that’s managed to make it about 1/3 its way in. You haven’t been sleeping, eating or living well, and I’m so so sorry. Hopefully this particular developmental nightmare will be over soon and will take with it the drooling, snot, and random fevers and tummy troubles. 

Despite the awful teething, you have been growing and changing like crazy. You are walking all over the place now, and are getting better every day at navigating steps and transitioning from one surface to another. You LOVE to climb, especially at the park’s playset- the higher you get the better. You also love to climb on your riding toys and always, always want to be on the go.

Nolan, at 14 months you:

• Weigh 21 pounds 13 ounces
• Wear size 12-18 month and 18 month clothing, size 4 diapers and size 5.5 shoes
• Are no longer drinking formula but drink whole milk (still out of a bottle; you LOVE your bottles)
• Are still a really good eater, although the teething has definitely affected your appetite lately
• Go to bed about 6:00 and still wake up about twice at night (grrr) and are usually up for the day about 5:30-6:00 am.
• Nap about 2.5 hours (usually about 11:30 am-2:00 pm)
• Still aren’t saying any actual words besides “Dada” and “Bye Bye” but babble like crazy all day
• Fight like crazy with Charlotte but  you also love her like crazy
• Love to perch yourself on the bottom ledge of the refrigerator when it’s open- so funny
• Love your church nursery classes but have some separation anxiety now when I drop you off.
• Love nothing more than being outside and scream in anger any time I bring you inside
• Adore watching Grayson’s school bus come to the house in the mornings and afternoons and always wave “Bye Bye” as it drives away
• Are the best snuggler

Nolan, you are a full-fledged toddler, and you exhaust me in every way possible. But you also have captured my whole heart with your gummy smile and slobbery kisses and I couldn’t love you more. Happy 14 months my sweet Noly.

Love,

Mommy