So many of us have struggled with the challenges of being a parent.
This is the story of her struggles.
I've kept my fears and feelings bottled up for so long that I'm almost afraid to let them out. I'm afraid to to let them go.
Here goes nothing.
Even as a teen, I was afraid of being a mom. I felt my issues meant I shouldn't have children - I didn't want to be responsible for screwing up another's life like I had my own. Sometimes I wish I had listened to those feelings.
My daughter, she's a spitting image of me and I have no idea how to help her. She's in the fifth grade and extremely intelligent, which she sees as a curse.
She has ADHD. We struggled for many years before getting a diagnosis. She's struggling socially, trying to fit in, trying not to be different. She feels everyone hates her - I think she truly believes that they do.
Her teacher says that the kids at school accept her for who she is, yet she doesn't feel that they do.
How can I help my daughter if I can't help myself? How do I ease the pain of rejection when I feel the same rejection? I want to tell her it's okay to be different; that the world will accept you. I wish I believed that.
I'd like to say I was blessed to have another child, but I don't always feel that he's a blessing. I feel guilty for feeling that way.
My son is eight; so very different than my daughter. He's always been a difficult child - I've felt like an inadequate mother from Day One with him. I didn't allow myself to bond with him.
Don't get me wrong - I love him; I'd lay down my life for my kids. But spending a day with my him makes me want to scream with frustration.
At three, he was diagnosed with autism. We've just learned that autism was a misdiagnosis - it's more accurate to say he has ADHD, with Oppositional Defiance Disorder, and a learning disability.
He's slow to read. He has trouble making friends. It's no wonder - he's downright mean, hateful, and shows no remorse when he hurts someone.
He craves attention. He repeats things a hundred times. He stims (twirls) when his medication is wearing off.
If you tell him of an event coming up, he'll ask over and over about the event. Every part of his life has to be planned and scheduled, or life is a living hell.
I feel like everything that's happened to him is my fault.
It's my fault that I couldn't carry him to term, that he was delivered at 34 weeks. It's my fault, because I allowed steroid injections to make his lungs mature due to his premature birth.
He's like this because of ME.
I've failed him and he's the one stuck living like this. Constantly feeling like the outcast. And I'm stuck feeling as though I'm a failure as a parent. As a human being.
Why couldn't I have children that didn't have issues?
I feel like God is punishing them, because I'm their mother.
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