On being forged into a warrior mom
If I could summarize our journey from Hell to HOPEISM, it would be in my faith, which I call HOPEISM. It has been my weapon of choice to get me through each battle I have had to fight in my mission to win our war called life with autism and seizures. Vaccine injury to be more specific. It would also be in committing to heart, soul, & mind the words and motto's from Forged, NDCQ, the Lone Survivor, and Levi Lusko in his book, "Through the Eyes of a Lion." I will be forever grateful to the inspiration, encouragement, and mental fortitude found through all of them collectively. Because of that, I am not allowing this tragedy of vaccine injury that has come into our lives to be an obstacle to being used by God. I am instead turning it into an opportunity to be used like never before!
This blog is dedicated to Brandon. His life has been forged by difficulty, obstacles, & all too often because of seizures - pain, blood, broken teeth, & broken bones. Yet through all that he has shown such fortitude. The bravery, strength, & resilience of a true warrior. He taught me that having strength through adversity means that even if you lose every battle, like the Lone Survivor, you never quit fighting until you win the war. That in the words of "NDCQ," you keep "dreaming," keep "daring," & keep "doing." As Team Guppy has yet to be able to escape vaccine injury, we have no choice but to as Levi Lusko writes, "Run toward the Roar." God has indeed given us such incredible power in enduring such impossible pain.
Some days the HOPEISM in that simply takes my breath away.
August 26, 2010
Perfectly Balanced Blessings
I'm sure it's a morbid thought that I shouldn't share...but each time Brandon has a grand mal seizure, I think of what I would miss most about him if he were not to live through it.
I mean, other than praying, there's not much else one can do while watching your child shake and tremble and choke uncontrollably while their lips turn blue and their face goes pale during those 1-4 minutes that seem more like 1-4 lifetimes. It is the most horrific thing that I've experienced as the mother of a son with autism. Those seizures. Those blasted seizures that make the thousandth one seem like the first. Those seizures that you think after the thousandth one you would handle it like a veteran, but you don't. You're still a scared, shaking rookie who wants nothing more than to scream "Uncle!".
Or like I do, panic and dial 911.
That's how I felt this morning after Brandon's second seizure in less than 12 hours.
Plans for the day replaced with laying beside a peaceful boy as he sleeps it off.
New plans made for following him like a hawk once he was up and slowly moving about.
And doing that, is when I found the cup in the picture above.
The cup my husband and I often see perched about our house at unexpected times, perfectly balanced in unexpected places.
Todd and I share that smile of understanding that only we can know, when it comes to that cup and the places it's been periously perched.
Always half full of something in it he's drinking.
Always perfectly balanced.
Just carefully set atop whatever he was by when he was done drinking it... On the corner of the couch, the one inch ledge of the TV, the corner of his bed on the blankets, the table saw in the garage, the pool rail out back....
This child who cannot read, write, or talk, but who can perfectly balance a half-full cup on a pillow.
Whenever we see the cup, we cannot help but smile. That amidst the chaos and confusion of our household, among the challenges and obstacles we face in our life with autism -- that something as simple as a perfectly balanced cup can make us smile and remind us of God.
That like Brandon's blue cup, He's there where we least expect to find Him.
I think that why seeing that cup so unexpectedly makes me smile, is because sometimes it is hard to see God's blessings when we're going through trials and tribulations. It is hard to focus on the obvious... That God is there and He does know what we're going through and that we aren't alone.
That's why I think that Brandon's blue cup is one thing I would miss most about him should a seizure take him from me one day.
That reminder just for us that such a seemingly imperfect child could do something so perfectly.
That when we're having a day where we just want to cry, we find that cup somewhere and just start to laugh.
The lesson he teaches us in how when it comes to God, we should always expect the unexpected! We should always expect to find miracles in the darkest valley. Peace among chaos. Beauty in the sometimes ugliness of life.
I watch him wander around the house like he is now, still a bit groggy, but wanting to just do and be despite what he's just gone through; and I can't help but just smile at how God uses this simple sweet little boy to bring such unexpected joy in my life!
I smile at how God uses Brandon and a blue cup to remind me of how He perfectly balances the scale of hardships with so very many blessings.
Now if only I could find a way to have each seizure he has take off five pounds of fat instead of five years of life, I'd be good to go........