Priorities, Forgiveness, Love, and Humility

May 16, 2017, 4:53 PM

It's hard to believe that Sam is 18 years old today. I can't say it seems like just yesterday he was born. It honestly does't seem like that at all. In fact, I would say that in his short life span, I have lived an eternity while floating precariously between heaven and hell. The highs have been incredible and the lows have been horrific. Being the mom of a heroin addict, Sam's Mom, I have learned about priorities and forgiveness and love and humility.

One of my strongest memories of my pregnancy with Sam is that I was HUGE. I had anticipated that I would be one of those woman who just has the "basket ball under the shirt" look (because I was pretty fit at that time). Not so. I grew arm wings and multiple chins and a gigantic butt too . The whole works. It really bugged me. (Not enough to consider portion control on any level, but never the less I was annoyed.) It seems so self centered and superficial now. Who the hell cares if a pregnant woman gets big? Why was it so important to me? (Priorities, lack thereof.). I wish I could go back and cherish every little kick (4 am was his prime time, every morning). Maybe if I had spent less time fretting about being so fat and more time "enjoying my new shape" and meditating with a classical music monitor strapped to my belly my son would not be an addict right now. Would there have been any way to prevent this?

I wish God would have stamped a little A (for addict) or H (it could be a bad one) on his forehead when he was born. Just as a courtesy, an extra little "heads up". I wonder if I would have had the insight and courage to think and act differently if I had known my son would potentially become a heroin addict. Or, would I have remained locked in my ignorant mindset of "it will never happen to me"? Those were my exact thoughts before it happened to me.

The fact that I have managed to raise a heroin addict is one of the things I find more unbelievable in my life. Perhaps because I am so repulsed by heroin and the likes of it, it never dawned on me that I would be so connected with it. This is what I mean about forgiveness, Rarely does a parent go back through and pick apart every choice they have ever made when their kid is doing great and kicking ass.

As a mom of a kid who apparently is in so much pain he would like to die, I have had to learn to forgive myself for all the things I did and didn't do, the choices I have or haven't made. The feelings I had or didn't have. Nothing from the past can alter the future. Forgiveness is the only way out of the past. Even though I don't really know exactly what I am forgiving myself for, I am sure there are many things I could add to the list. Things I could have and should have done differently. Hind sight is 20/20. No one ever mentions hindsight after a good outcome. I guess there is no need to. It is kind of a negative word then, I have never really considered it to be so until now.

I have learned the strength of my own love towards all of my children and the heartbreak of being torn between them through Sam's addiction as well. This constant attempt at balancing life between children happens in all families but when one of the kids is an addict, it changes the entire family dynamic in a long term and profound way.

Of course we spent (the other kids') spring break in the hospital with Sam, why would we have even thought to do anything else? And did the other kids complain even for a moment? Oh, hell no, they know better. Been here, done this. First, we keep Sam alive. Then, we deal with the rest of the children. Then, we deal with the rest of the world. That is the order of operations in our family.

I know that each of my other children feel like they are merely an after thought at times but nothing could be further from the truth. They are so very important to me. They are the reason that I will always continue to move forward, no matter what. Things have just gotten so muddled and lopsided in the past 2 1/2 years and navigating through the debris has been one of my biggest challenges. There has never been a lack of love though.

Sam's addiction has not changed my love for him either. If you've ever seen an addict on the street and wondered if his (or her) parents' worry about him or still love him and hope he will return, the answer is a resounding yes. The pain and fear of losing our addict child and the love we have for him never go away. We always want them back. We always remember them as truly and completely innocent beings. All of us start that way. We are tired and frustrated and angry but we them love them and we want them home. (Sober only, thank you very much).

My complete lack of control to affect the outcome of Sam's recovery has filled me with humility. This is the one thing in my life that I want so badly to fix and there is not a damn thing I can do about it. It is a lonely feeling. We all have these times in our lives. We would give up anything to make things better and yet we just have to sit and watch life unfold as it will. We can handle it with anger, fear, and angst or we can choose to face it, at least on the outside, with humility and grace. That is my goal. Humility and grace. Lean on others, ask for and receive help, seek advice of those who know more that I do and continue to put one foot in front of the other. Breathe.

So, my dear Sam, with tears streaming down my face I want to tell you that I love you infinitely more than the day you were born, 18 years ago today. You have challenged me in every way known possible to parenting and I have loved every moment of it. I remember you as my little boy, the day you caught your first fish. You will always be that precious little boy to me. I will never give up on you. I hope you choose sobriety. I hope you choose life. Happy Birthday my son. And many more.

Where there is life, there is hope. Thank you for reading. Love you. #nomoreshame