It's been years since we've been to our community pool. We've tried out other smaller pools because Max was never a fan of our local one: Too many kids, too much noise. I never loved it, either. That's because I couldn't get past the sad memories I had of being there with Max as a baby.
We'd try to dip him in the baby pool, but he'd cry. So I'd sit with him under the shade of a huge blue tarp and Dave would go for a swim. I'd watch other tots splashing happily in the pool and crawling on the grass as I held Max in my arms, because he wasn't yet able to crawl. I felt so despondent and alone, as I often did during the first year of Max's life.
So we were back at the pool on Sunday. My eyes immediately went to that big blue tarp, and I remembered. But that was then—and now, Max was so excited to be there. He waded right into the smallest pool, splashed around, made a beeline for a steering wheel that controlled the flow of a mini waterfall.
I sat on the side watching him enjoy. "Does he have autism?" a girl asked me. "No, he has cerebral palsy, and he understands you—go say hello!" And she did, and then Max and her played for a bit.
Slowly but surely, the sad memories of Max's early years have been replaced with good ones. The park where Max couldn't do much except sit on my lap is now a place where he roams free. The mall he refused to go into is a favorite of his. One of the only places I haven't yet reclaimed is the hospital where Max was born. To me, it is the closest place to hell.
Around Max's tenth birthday this past year, I started thinking about going back to the hospital and just sitting in the lobby. I thought it might help replace the memories I have of Max's birth and the two weeks he was in the NICU. I still haven't done it.
This weekend, though, Max and I both found a whole lot of happiness at the pool.
I think there is a a lot of power in reclaiming the bad places. The places that hurt us and left us feeling emotionally scarred. For our family that meant returning to the National Aquarium, various fast food play areas, and a large playground which had all left their mark on me.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad the pool was such a success. One place at a time...
The one place I can't revisit is my grandmother's old house, but for the opposite reasons. I drove by it once after she died, and the fact that I knew I couldn't enter a place where I spent so many happy days as a child was too painful, so I've never been back.
ReplyDeleteSo glad Max enjoyed the pool! What a wonderful kid.
Being the only parent of a special needs child within our friend group and family I find great comfort in reading about Max! Your personal experiences and messages are always encouraging and remind me we are not alone! Thank you Ellen and Max! Ellie (3yrs old with CP) and I reclaimed being able to play outside with older brother.
ReplyDeleteI LOVE this post! Thank you, because I have felt the exact same as you with my son's development. The feelings of being alone, of seeing the other kids his age happily playing, and being hesitant to revisit places that have caused emotional pain. Thank you for this post!
ReplyDeleteI had this feeling about the hospital my daughter was in for several weeks after she was born - when we got discharged from the NICU, I told the nurse I never wanted to come back! Of course, we have had to go back for illnesses and procedures over the last 10 years, but I remember sitting in the reception area one time, looking down the hallway to the NICU, just trying to process those early days.
ReplyDeleteWe were given out-dated info concerning our daughter's genetic diagnosis ("Most will not make it to their first b-day, if they do, then they die in early childhood" and "Unfortunately, your child will never walk, unfortunately your child will never talk" ---WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!!!) so we like to document all her wonderful progress and put it on YouTube so that others will know.
I'm glad you had a better time of it at the pool this time.
ReplyDeleteWe take cupcakes to the NICU for Alex's birthday for the nurses. Speaking of which, I have 10 days to his birthday and probably ought to start planning that.
ReplyDeleteGoing back and being involved there helps - then again, we have spent a *lot* of time there in the last 5 years (over 16 months total between my two children, at last count) - so everyone in the NICU and PICU know us.
I love this post; there's so much healing and progress in it. We all can relate to your sense of loss in some way. But you show us hope that there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel for all of us. Thank you for that, Ellen. As a suggestion, I've been helped to make happy memories by revisiting those scary places on my own terms where I had more control. Would you consider starting or joining a mentoring group at the hospital for parents just beginning a journey similar to yours? You have so much to give scared new parents. Somebody has to be there to counteract the terrifying "expert" diagnoses doctors give new parents of special needs children. I have no idea where I'd be if my parents had listened when I, a "vegetable", was born.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you both had a great time! Thankyou for such a great post, I can relate wholeheartedly. I feel sick even driving past coops hospital which I have only done once in eight years.
ReplyDeleteOh this post did me a world of good. Now, I need to try to reclaim some places. Thanks for the perspective.
ReplyDeleteReally really love this post. Good for both of you.
ReplyDeleteDD's clinic appointments are essentially in a wing
ReplyDeleteof the hospital. I can't leave fast enough every
appointment or stay at the hospital. I'm hoping
years of only boring checkups change that view
some day.
Love this post. I am slowly replacing sad memories as well. :) Yeah for swimming at the pool!
ReplyDeleteThat's Awesome, Ellen! And even awesomer is that the little girl played with Max for a while! I know how you feel about the hospital. Syracuse, NY is the most depressing place on earth for me because that's where Bethany was diagnosed with brain cancer, had her surgery and where all the life threatening complications went down!
ReplyDeleteOh Ellen,
ReplyDeleteI love this so much. Crying-kind of love it so much. We only recently reclaimed the rec center that my son and I enjoyed so many classes together when he was tiny...until it became more and more obvious that he was different and more and more people reacted to those differences. The last time that I was there, until recently, was the last because a woman who overheard me say the words "we're not sure, but it may be autism" then refused to ride the elevator with us with her baby "for safety reasons." My son was 2 1/2. We finally gave in and signed up for another mom and me swim lesson and have begun to reclaim the happiness. I'm so glad that Max had such a blast and that you were able to smile at a place that used to hurt.
I like this idea very much. Why should we allow bad memories to prevent us from enjoying something? You go, Ellen. Glad you weren't paralyzed by the past.
ReplyDeleteWhat a good way to replace bad memories. I am still trying to figure that one out. I avoid almost every thought and place that make me sad. Max looks like he is having a great time by the pool. Hurray!
ReplyDelete