I like to think I'm a good Mom. Not great, necessarily, but at least in the very good range. Dom has all of his needs met and most of his wants. I try to give him as much attention as I can, and I obsess over getting him the help he needs. And I mean obsess...I do hours of research every week, brainstorm workarounds for the classroom, and patiently drill the same fricking information over and over and over (okay, maybe not entirely patiently).
I don't say all of that so that everyone starts yelling out, "No! You're an AWESOME Mom!" I say it because no matter what I do, it isn't enough. No matter how much research I do, I can't find the magic bullet that will enable him to be normal. No matter how many ideas I come up with to help him at school, they won't work if he doesn't use them. No matter how many times I read/explain/teach/sound out/run the numbers with him, he just forgets it fifteen minutes later.
And he's weird. Not always in a good way. Which means he's a target of teasing and bullying. I talk to teachers, parents, and kids. I roleplay with Dom to teach him proper reactions and solutions. And it's still not enough.
No matter how much I do, it will never be enough. Everytime we come to a new obstacle or trip over an existing one, we'll be frustrated. He'll spend his whole life regrouping from those frustrations.
Yet in those moments when Dom is able to escape the prison in which his challenges keep him locked, in those moments when he can be still, when he looks at me with clarity in his usually-distracted eyes and says "I love you, Mommy"...I'm grateful. I look at him and I thank God that He gave me this gift. Of course I follow up my thanks with a "Please help me help my baby." But what parent doesn't?
In the end, God gave me the perfect kid for me. I don't know why this kid or these challenges. But no matter how long our road, or how hard we have to work along the way, we will continue. Because it's up to me to treasure the gift that is my boy.