Warning: This is a “special needs mom” post. Read at your own risk. This is not uplifting or inspirational or encouraging.  And it may not be biblical.  But it is honest.  Maybe my “typically developing” mom friends can relate in some way, but probably not. Forgive the specialized rant, but I need to write this to keep from going MAD.

Have you ever had a life so full of people that you feel utterly alone most of the time? I just really want to push MUTE, so I can’t hear all of the experts who would like to tell me how to live my life and do my job. This sounds harsh. I know. I’m sorry. Sort of. But sort of, I’m not.

This is a partial list of the consultants I deal with on a regular basis: physical therapist, occupational/feeding therapist, personal care attendant, vision therapist, neurosurgeon, developmental pediatrician, child psychologist, Early Intervention service coordinator, ophthalmologist, endocrinologist, cardiologist, orthodontist, pediatric dentist, speech therapist, orthopedist, physical medicine physician, neonatologist, dietician, ENT…

There are more, but I can’t remember them at the moment, and I think the point is made. These specialists are amazing. They are well-trained, great with children, filled with endless knowledge and caring hearts. But they are DRIVING ME CRAZY right now. They really are.

First of all, they overwhelm me. I could spend every waking hour trying to implement their suggestions and follow their protocols, and I would never be able to accomplish what they request.

Second, they contradict each other. And when they find out that they do, watch out! Because then I have to hear why one is right and the other is wrong. And that does not help me one bit.

Third, every conversation I have with any of them leaves me feeling guilty. Which pretty much means I feel guilty all of the time because I hear from one of them almost every day.

Fourth, they have NO concept of what my life is really like—how many people are constantly on my mind with great and pressing needs and how very isolating it is to be a “special needs mom”—four times over—and a “typically-developing mom”—also four times over. Everyone is pretty much scared to engage—so they don’t—or they do, but from a comfortable distance.

Fifth, they have no clue how wearisome it is to constantly have people in your house—several times a week—helping you but also making you feel like you live under a microscope. And there is no hiding that your dog pees on the floor and your kids pretty much live like pigs and relationships in your family are far from perfect.

Sixth, they don’t seem to account for the fact that I function on so little sleep that I can’t remember the last time I slept for more than three hours in a row—it was early September 2013, if I recall.

But the good news is that all this keeps me praying and alerts me constantly to my dependency on God. He called—He will equip. He will take my meager efforts and my utter failures, and He will make them into abundance. Fish and loaves all over again. He will. I know it. I believe it. I trust Him. His opinion and expert advice are all that matter. (Repeat to self hourly.)

That’s all. I feel better. Just needed to vent for a moment…survival tactic…prayers welcome…