Bedtime Heart to Heart
Michelle O'Neil | Tuesday, September 29, 2009 at 5:00AM Tucking my sleepy girl into bed, I listen to her breathe, stroke her arm.
"Riley?" I ask, taking her hand.
"What Mommy?"
"There is something I want to talk with you about. You know how I write a lot about you on my blog?"
"Yeah."
"Well the other day, I was writing about when we used to have a really hard time. Back when I didn't know what was wrong, or why you cried so much. I said something I'm afraid might hurt your feelings one day if you read it. I said, sometimes I felt like I hated you."
Silence.
"But Sweetie, I never hated you. I hated how I felt and I blamed you, but it wasn't your fault. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to help you. I didn't know why you screamed and why you cried. I didn't hate you. I hated the situation. I hated seeing you suffer and I hated feeling helpless."
"It's okay Mommy. I did some things I feel bad about too," she smiles softly at me in the dim light.
"Like what?" I ask.
"Well when we were at that festival, and that little girl was having a meltdown, it hurt my ears and I screamed at her and called her a baby and I think I hurt her feelings."
This happened almost three years ago. At the time, the sound of someone else crying, was brutally jarring to Riley's system. The little girl having the tantrum was clearly on the spectrum and her meltdown triggered one in Riley. I had no idea she carried that around with her, feeling guilty.
"Sweetie, that little girl was already in such a state of upset I don't think she even heard you. I'm pretty sure she was so far gone into her own meltdown she couldn't hear anything, okay."
"Okay," she says, looking relieved.
Silence.
"Mommy?"
"Yeah Sweetie."
"I'm sorry I have Asperger's."
Oh my God.
"Oh no, no, no, don't you ever be sorry. I would not trade you for anything. "
Pulling her in closer to me I kiss the top of her head.
"I love you exactly as you are. You have taught us so much. We are better people because of you. So many people care about you Riley. People from all over the world send e-mails, saying how much they love you, how much they learn from you. They find themselves judging another child, and stop right in the middle of it and wonder...maybe that child has autism... and their hearts soften. People, even grown ups, say when they feel scared, they think of you and find courage. People who have worked with you, teachers and therapists, they all tell me you changed them for the better, and they'll never be the same. Don't ever apologize for who you are. I would never want a different daughter."
"Thanks Mommy."
We stay there in her comfy bed, curled around each other for a few more minutes.
"I love you so much," I tell her.
"I love you too Mommy."
"I'm glad we talked."
"Me too," she says, hugging me around the neck.
Some people are critical of those of us who write about our kids, but here's the thing. How I felt was not a secret. The child screamed for two and a half years! Riley knew the rage and frustration I had when she was little. She was there. She saw the desperate fury in my eyes when my patience ran out. Why not bring it out into the light, give it some air. Take away the power of those bad memories.
"Goodnight, Love," I give her a kiss on the cheek before getting up to leave her room.
"Night," she whispers.
Stopping at her doorway, I turn for a moment stealing one last glance at Riley all snuggled up in her blankets, and I breathe. Silently I thank God for how far we have come and look forward to where we are going.
Michelle O'Neil has contributed to A Cup of Comfort for Parents of Children with Autism, and Special Gifts: Women Writers on the Heartache, the Happiness and the Hope of Raising a Special Needs Child. She has written for Literary Mama, The Imperfect Parent, and Cool Cleveland. She has a nine year old daughter with Asperger's and a seven year old son with auto-immune issues. She blogs about autism, family, spirituality and what not at Full-Soul-Ahead!
Reader Comments (15)
This makes me cry. The good kind. You are my #1 authority on a range of topics, Michelle. Your sharing is a gift that keeps giving and giving and giving!
Thank you for your example, Michelle. It is so important to communicate with our kids, and that was beautiful. I agree - Riley's soul is indeed powerful, as is yours. Love.
Reading this gave me goosebumps. You two are both something special.
Beautiful, honest, healing. Thanks.
"Louise didn't know me at all, but answered my e-mail and gave me her phone number. We were desperate. Riley was two and screaming non-stop. Seth was a baby. None of us had slept in months. I was having panic attacks. It was taking its toll on Todd. I feared I might just lose it, really lose it on her one day. I felt my life was over. I sometimes hated my child. There was so much despair in our house."
So here's a question. What if your daughter didn't didn't respond to MB12 or to good therapy as many children don't despite parents trying anything and everything and spending thousands of dollars? Would you still feel like you hated her? Just curious. You see, you were lucky enough to come out the other end. Many, many people are stuck with children who scream endlessly for years and years, who never speak, who never progress cognitively so I am wondering, if that had been your unfortunate situation, would you still "hate?"
That was an incredible post. Thanks so much for writing that - for giving a voice to all those horrible feelings that we all sometimes have, and for giving a voice to the deep feelings of love and admiration that remarkably co-exist with them.
Dear Curious,
Riley still has meltdowns, and I still hate it. I hate seeing her suffer and I hate not being able to help her. I hate that I still do not have the patience I would like to have and that I'm not above losing my cool. I DO NOT hate Riley. I honestly can't say what would have happened if she had not responded to MB12. There were times I just wanted to end it all I was so far in despair.
This led me to a place where I was forced to see my own responses to her as a spiritual problem, requiring a spiritual solution. Prior to that it was "How can I fix her, how can I make it stop?" When I considered the possibilty that I had a choice in how I was reacting, it was from there that we both began to heal. Her physically, me emotionally, from a lifetime of pain. When I got clearer, I was able to find the things that would help. It wasn't like the MB12 came and then everything was suddenly rainbows. The spiritual work had begun long before. That being said, when I do lose my cool, I feel like a total fraud with all my spiritual talk. And then I remember how far we've come, and try to forgive myself, and remember I'm still learning.
Thank you for your question. The answer is I don't know.
Love.
Interesting post, and even more interesting, your response to Curious. You are so honest, Michelle.
Beautiful. You are making me weep today! That or pms. Whatever. LOL!
You are honest and classy, Michelle. I heart you so.
:)
oh my what a wonderful mother and child you both are
so beautiful, honest, heartfelt. i love the love you and riley have. xxx
Wow. This post truly resonates with me. Thank you for writing, and yes, I agree completely about why we write. To give it a little air, a little light, to make sense of the senseless.
Very touching post!
I am crying at the time of reading it. Thank you for sharing such a nice article. I can never forget you post. I will surely try to keep contact with you.
Hi,
You are very honest about sharing your true feelings to your loving ones and readers.Your daughter is very lucky one that she have wonderful mother like you.
Your honesty is inspiring, as a writer and parent. I approach difficult topics with honesty, as you did in your conversation with your daughter, but seem in the minority...until I found your blog. Seems that many parents prefer to avoid the difficult conversations with children so much of the time...especially concerning topics that may not come back to haunt us for many years. Those conversations are what help our children understand the world - the good, the bad and the confusing.