Ill Prepared For Parenthood

God blessed me with three sons.  My sons were not blessed with a well-prepared  mother.

The first week of kindergarten I was called to meet with my first son’s teacher.   Meetings occurred often every year in attempts to find strategies to help him improve his performance in class, completing work assigned, and adhering to rules. Nothing helped. He was eventually diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD) and  impulsive behavior.  The consequences of his impulsive behavior lead me to places I never would have imagined and meet professionals I never thought I would ever encounter. I prayed daily that his impulsivity and irresponsibility would improve.  It didn’t.  Years of frustration and exasperation left me confused about God’s lack of provision to my earnest prayers.   He didn’t graduate from high school on time since he didn’t pass all the required classes on schedule.  He flunked out of college his first semester. Got a job and quickly got fired. He then began making more responsible choices.  He joined the Air Force and served six years.  After honorable discharge he attended an aeronautical school.  Lo and behold, if he didn’t achieve the National Aeronautical School Association Student of the Year and graduate Valedictorian.  Wonders never cease.  Fast forward twenty five years.  God proves Himself El Shaddia (Lord God Almighty).  My son is happily married with a daughter, employed in a career in which he excels, serves in the Air National Guard and treats his mother like a queen.

My second son was diagnosed with Failure To Thrive (FTT) at four months of age.  The pediatrician causally mentioned those words during a visit when attempting to determine why my baby would not gain weight as he should.  I don’t remember anything about the remainder of the visit after hearing those words.  As far as I knew, babies suffering from Failure To Thrive had mothers are neglectful or abusive.  Guilt gushed into my heart.  On the heels of guilt, comes fear.  Were his problems my fault?   What had I done? What had I not done?  Would the doctor turn me in to the authorities?  Would he be taken away from me?  Would his mental faculties be effected?   Treatment included him receiving nutrition from a naso-gastric tube for some time.  My husband (at the time) and I took him to see a world-renowned pediatric gastroenterologist in Cincinnati, Ohio for answers to his lack of weight gain.  They could not give us any answers.  God didn’t reveal the cause of his problem or any sure treatment method, but my son’s health problems kept me tethered to His promises He made to David in the Psalms.  He brings consolation and joy when my anxiety is great within me.  Fast forward twenty years.  Health and vitality describe my son.

My third son was nearing his first birth day when I knew something wasn’t right.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Cuddling or being held not something he sought or even enjoyed.  We could not got to family gatherings when he was infant and toddler.  Screaming began when we walked in the door and only ceased when we got in the car to leave.  He never seemed to need my consolation or want my affection.  In fact, when upset, the more I attempted to comfort him, the more the crying escalated.   I remember one day looking down on him in his crib and wondered if he was developmentally delayed or just didn’t like me.  I prayed, albeit, a vague prayer.  I didn’t know with what I was dealing.  Was it him with the problem, or was it me?   Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) came the diagnosis at age two. Life “on the Spectrum”  promises that sixty-three percent are bullied, less than one percent make it to college, and only seventeen percent live independently.   They are also concrete  thinkers and require much more visual input to process information than the rest of us.  I feared he would not accept Christ because He is not visible-an abstract concept for an concrete thinker.  But God anchored my soul with hope like He promised He would.  My son has, thus far, beaten the odds.  More importantly, he accepted an abstract concept-Christ as his Savior.

He showed Himself faithful as my Mighty God.

 

I would love for you to share your discovery of Mighty God.

Let me offer you personally, some encouragement. Leave a comment or send me an  email.

Lavishly Blessed,

Melissa

 

 

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