Today was nerve-racking as we had to make a call to my sons rheumatologist. A few days ago my son was awoken at night because he was really sick. Juvenile arthritis reared its ugly head back into our lives, it never really leaves but it likes chaos at my sons expense. I hate arthritis because no child or person deserves such an ugly disease.
I have talked about arthritis in previous blog post but I can never truly get the words out on how much I hate watching this disease hurt my nine-year-old child in vicious ways. When I envision arthritis in my head it would only be described as a glob of goo with malicious smiles smearing across its face. Everything about this disease is horrifying because as a parent, the feeling of not being able to ease their pain is heartbreaking. Telling your child they cannot do certain things because this disease takes away from it is gut wrenching. Watching your child not being able to walk for more than ten minutes, or watching them be unable to do things regular children can do is indescribable.
With each appointment, each version of medication not working, each symptom that can change any day is unfair to the child that lives with it. I’m angry with this disease so angry that sometimes it breaks me as a parent to my brave warrior. The pain is one thing but holding your child because he is depressed because he feels his body failed him make you as a parent feel like your failing. I’m a mother who has an amazing son and I feel like I cannot protect him from the bad in the world because it is his body attacking him. The immune system which is normally marvellous in the jobs it performs failed at the task of being my sons defender. I’m angry; I created this failing body. I grew this body for nine months and the first day I held him I promised to keep him safe. Failing in that promise is beyond my control, but his body and immune system is failing non the less.
Being scared of what’s next is part of the deal when you have a sick kid. Before every appointment even though not religious: I pray for good news. Especially during this difficult time of being in a pandemic. I remember the first time we got our diagnosis I promised my son I would be there for every appointment, so he won’t be scared. Praying and setting mental pleas to the universe it went unheard. I cannot be there for my sons injections. His stepdad will have to take him and I will keep pleading with the universe for him to safe. This disease is scary for everyone, yet somehow my superhero of a son finds a way to stay beautiful.
Three nights ago I was holding him while he threw up and had a bad case of diarrhea. Last week he was in so much pain from walking half a block to the mail box. He said to me last night I hate my body mom it’s not nice to me. Followed with why does my body hate me because I want to love it but it’s hard. I wish there was a magic wand I could wave to take it all away from him. Instead, I will hold him longer and try to be there because he needs me to be strong for him.
I will say one thing that I admire out of this whole nasty disease is the children who live with it are so brave and fearless. They are true superheros in the face of adversity. My son and other children living with this disease are stronger than words can describe. I admire his courage and faith that he will kick this diseases butt one day at a time. Even though this disease is taking the piss out of our lives right now I know in my heart my son is the strongest little man and I can wish to be half as brave as he is.
What is parenting a sick child? I can say for sure it’s not something I would wish on my worst enemy. My eldest child has two illnesses; one is autism, the other Juvenile Arthritis. I am a selfish parent because sometimes being the parent of a sick kid is exhausting. With each diagnosis and doctors appointments with never good news, sometimes I imagine running away and finally breaking down. People don’t talk about what it’s like to be a parent of a sick kid because the feeling attached to it is judged heavily.
I’m the mom who breaks down in my car before work after appointments. I head in with a smile and try to make others day manageable. Convincing me to get out of the car and put on the brave face is ridiculous. No one on the outside is allowed to see the drowning sorrows of motherhood. I don’t want anyone to know that I feel guilt because my child is sick. It was my genetics that gave him the issues that he has. I’m selfish because I want to hate every strand of my genetic code. Placing blame on something feels good to do. I hate that this happened to my child. It curls my stomach every time a new diagnosis or treatment needs to happen. I’m selfish because I just want him to live a normal life.
Recently strangers have judged me for my sons treatments. I have received stares from people unknown, parents like myself silently shaming what they do not understand. It’s sickening to have society post awareness yet remain ignorant as to why certain treatments are necessary for my child quality of life. I want to yell at the judgmental ass holes; I want them to feel the pain and hurt I feel, I want them to understand that I am a parent barely holding my head above water, and they are the people dunking it under. It’s not their fault this happened. A part of me wants to shake them, the other part of me just wants to them see my child and not his disabilities. In the grocery store as the person states my child is too old to sit in the cart, I imagine her legs being so sore she can’t walk. What would life be like for her then? I know it sounds sick to say out loud. The feelings are there and denying they exist causes feelings of rage and loneliness.
Loneliness, fear, and feeling of rage are taboo subjects among parents of sick kids. I hate being called brave because it’s my duty to make sure my child will live a good life. I signed up for it since the day he was born. Don’t place me on a pedestal because I don’t deserve it. I cringe hard when people say thoughts and prayers or I’m so sorry. Don’t be sorry for me, don’t be sorry for my child. I wish people would ask for more information and actually support research. Another thing stop giving information read off Google and think that it’s helping. Half the articles produced lack scientific research and data to make sense of the illness my child has. I loathe people who think that one persons illness is the same as Dick, Jane, and Sally. No illness can be the same its near impossible. I wish people would understand how frustrating the misinformation is. After being overloaded from appointments to have someone tell you that doctors knowledge is wrong is overwhelming. It adds to the guilt and shame parents of sick kids feel.
Despite crying in my car, laughing nervously in appointments, screaming at total strangers this is parenting with sick kids. When the parent states they need a break from this it means that they feel overwhelmed and scared. It doesn’t mean they want to up and abandon their sick child. The parent of a sick child would do anything to not have their child anymore. Expecting parents of sick children to not break down is unreasonable. On the outside everything seems fine because that’s the way we cope with the pain of our children. Having to hide these thoughts and feelings are detrimental to the mental health of the caregiver. Society holds high judgments as to what parents of sick children should be like. Walking in the shoes of the high and mighty is damn near impossible to not create the persona of someone falsely holding it together. Its being pushed off a cliff into oblivion, no life ring in sight. It’s not as simple as cry it out and get back on the horse so to speak.
Everything in that parents and children life changes from the first diagnosis. Home, work, school and mental self-worth all change. Sometimes the struggle of a parent is to manage the illness but manage normalcy without missing a heartbeat. The caregiver of a sick child often loses their identities as they try to navigate the waters of illness. Looking from the outside within my heart is with the other parents or caregivers who feel alone or at the moment sitting in a quiet place crying. It’s not your fault and your not alone in feeling grief and anger. The world just misunderstands selfish feelings but people trying to hold it together one diagnosis at a time they are not selfish just lost.