I wasn’t ready for parenting.  Well, that is not strictly true.  I was ready for a heavily idealised version of parenting that would include both of my child’s parents being better versions of themselves, a change that would happen as we crossed the threshold of the maternity hospital.  Yeah, that didn’t happen.  Neither of us were better versions of ourselves, and our first born felt the fall out of that.

I can’t go back and cope with his poor nursing better.
I can’t go back and cope with his poor swallow better.
I can’t go back and cope with his delayed speech better.

I can’t go back and help him deal with the frustration that all of those things brought.

I can’t go back and cope any better with the fact that he wore pyjamas for a year.
I can’t go back and cope any better with his hanger (the anger that comes with hungry)
I can’t go back and cope any better with my lack of coping.

I can’t go back and help him deal with the fact that it hurt him to be in the world.

I can look back and see a collection of things that all make sense when they are seen together.  Poor nursing, poor swallow, delayed speech go hand in hand with chewing porridge, not liking the textures of some foods and hating brushing his teeth.  It turns out all of his body feels all the things.

I can look back and see that when he is having a hard time he feels all the things all the more.

I can look back and see that when he couldn’t get one of the 32 available socks to fit, he was having a REALLY HARD TIME just being himself.

I can look back, take note of all of those things, and use them today to help him live well in a world where he feels all the things.

I hope in what I write here you will come to understand how incredibly awesome it is that my son is currently wearing a €16 pair of shoes from Penneys.

That is a reflection of how far we have come.