I had to write this down. I don’t want to forget it.

I said I don’t like being called a hero. I still don’t. I’m not good at taking compliments, mostly because I’m very hard on myself. Last night I had a breakdown of sorts. It had been building for a week or so. I just did not feel like I was enough. Enough of a person, enough of a mom, enough of spouse. I feel so disconnected sometimes, and it’s terribly hard to just plug in. I have never felt up to the task of raising my special needs kids as well as my regular ones.

This morning Casey had a dentist appointment. The place we go is super fantastic (I’ll write a review soon) and Casey was calm. I was talking to one of the hygienists that I love. She’s from India, where she was a dentist. She can’t practice here with that degree, so she’s working on getting another one. She’s amazing all on her own. She’s Muslim, her hair that I imagine is quite long is always covered so all you see on her is her face. There’s something about only being able to see someone’s face that makes every emotion they have that much more powerful. Her eyes dance when she talks. She speaks English wonderfully, but her accent is just enough that I have to pay careful attention to what she says.

We were talking about Casey and how he uses scripting to talk. She asked about Abby and told me she was sad that she didn’t get to see her one last time before we move.  Her voice lowered and she said, “I told my husband about you.” She looked away and her expression changed. “I told him how wonderful you are. How your children….they are so great…” And then she started to tear up.

I didn’t know what to say. I fumbled out a “thank you” that seemed too awkward and a little contrite. I needed to hear that today. I needed it so much.  I needed to know that I am doing okay. I’m not perfect. I’m not a hero. But I’m doing something right at least some of the time. 

Mostly.