As Luck Would have it.

Throughout your life, people will tell you a lot that you are lucky. As a child you use the term positively "You are so lucky!". It took me a long time in my life to realize that there are two types of luck. Good luck. Bad Luck. When people say "You're so lucky!" They could be in fact commenting on the fact that everything bad happens to you. This is the way of my life. And it isn't me having a bad day, feeling awful for myself, it is just the facts. I look at luck through this lense. I was born to a poor family, I lived in the worst, most dangerous part of inner city Boston. They write books about the projects I grew up in. By age six I was being bounced back and forth between family members, and age 8 it was off to foster care. That was the start of my luck. I could mention that if an accident is going to happen...it will. I've been hit by a car, fire cracker back fired...exploded in my face, as a baby I fell three stories out a window. Hell lets starts with the fact that I was born at 27 weeks gestation. I've been in multiple car accidents. And if an illness is rare, I'll probably get it. If the side effects of medication are uncommon, I'll expect to see those too. It is just how it is. If I were a glass half full type of girl, I would say that my real luck in life is that I've managed to survive at all. Maybe.

All that aside I've been thinking a lot lately about the expectations I've had for my life. I certainly didn't forsee it going down this way. When I was a child, in the middle of a crappy childhood, I promised myself that as an adult, when I gained all control, that I would make all the right choices and that my life would be better. I promised myself that if I did anything right at all, I would make sure that my children were happy, had the best childhood, it wouldn't matter what sacrifices had to be made. Stupid promises. Of course I made them, so I am trying to realize them, but how naive was I? Seriously. As a child I knew nothing of things like Autism, the statistics, the effect it would have on our lives. If you had said oh 1 in 88 which means it probably won't happen to you, maybe I would have been smart enough to say "Well, crap, it probably will happen to me then, because everything happens to me" Historically speaking, its just how its been.

So of course, because the Flu can be gotten, we got it. I should have expected it you know? I feel silly that I didn't. When will I learn? But we got the flu, it happened. It was awful. I wonder for a few days there if we would even survive it. But then maybe that is the flip side of my luck...it drags me through hell and back but somehow allows me to survive. But we were very sick...bed ridden sick. Then Bam! Have some Pneumonia. Just for kicks and good measure. I mean why not? So its been two weeks of struggling to breathe. Pure exhaustion. Broken sleep. And I'm wasted from it. Asher hasn't seen one of his therapists in two weeks. He hasn't gone to school. Hasn't gone to gymnastics. Hasn't seen his Mimi or Grammy. He tells me he misses Emmy, and Zoe, and Mimi, and Deb, and Grammy. He cries in the middle of the day to call Daddy at work. Just to call Phill crying, saying "Miss you daddy, a love you" and make Phill feel guilty for going to work. This is how our two weeks have been.

And he has regressed. Sometimes his speech is barely intelligible. Meaning I can barely understand him. He is back to jargoning (think of hearing sentences that sounds like tigga tigga tigga right mama?". It is sad to watch and a sad realization that as luck would have it, Asher would be a child that experiences substantial regression in short periods of time without therapy. Awesome. Although really, whose fault is it that I didn't see it coming? My own. That dissapointment....it is my own fault. I let it smack me in the face, when I knew in the back of my head it was coming.

Last night Asher woke up for the fifth time, coughing and wheezing, saying he was scared. So I brought my baby to bed, I cuddled him close, I stroked his hair. And somewhere in my cloudy brain the Taylor Swift Song "Ronan" began to play in my head. If you haven't heard it, it is about a gorgeous 3 year old boy who died of cancer. Ronan's story has been close to my heart for a long time now. I often have to put away my thoughts of Ronan, because it makes me too sad. But last night, I thought of Ronan's Mom Maya while I held my almost three year old and couldn't help but think about my luck again. Really luck is in the eye of the beholder I guess. For all my bad luck. For all the crap that has happened to us. I was there, holding my little boy. Something I know Maya would give anything for. So I hugged him close and I fell asleep.

Last night I dreamed in painful detail of the car accident I had when I was 20 weeks pregnant with Asher. It was so real, like it was happening all over again. I could feel the panic. And that thought that played in slow motion as my car spun out of control, "there is no way my baby will survive this". Painful detail. I woke up with a start, sweaty and gross. And I lean down and kiss a fuzzy little head that is laying against my chest. As luck would have it, my baby has survived a lot. Even before he was born, he survived a lot. His luck it seems, looks a little like mine. Bad shit finds us, but we survive. I don't know if that is good luck or bad luck, or if it is just what it is supposed to be. But last night I hugged a baby I thought I'd never have. And for a small amount of time, I forgot about his Autism, his regression, his immuno problems, his allergies, I forgot about everything that makes him different, everything that has lead to a huge deviation from the life I thought I'd be able to give him. I hugged my lucky little boy. And just for a few precious moments I thought to myself. "You are so lucky"