Lincoln is going through some stuff. Some stuff that's unsettling and scary for me and the hot husband. His health, his education, these things are at risk and instead of reaching out to the experts, I am seeking comfort and assistance from human beings.
In some wonderfully rare cases, these attributes exist in the same person and WHOOO BOYY! Is that a double-dipped-waffle-cone-chocolate-ice-cream treat! But, you know, usually it doesn't. Usually that along the way to "expert" the "human" disappears and what's left if pretty much a bummer.
I used to think that I didn't need doctors or teachers to be my friend, to be friendly, that I just needed them to do their job and do it well. I'm re-thinking that now. No, I have with absolute certainty re-thought that.
When I gestated and birthed my sweet guy I was no expert on who he was, who he was meant to be. I simply loved him and learned from him by watching and waiting and inferring and interpreting and listening and by LOVING him, I found out what I was capable of in terms of taking care of him. Easy! I parented who was presented to me!
And to further that point: Teach who is presented to you, Heal who is presented to you. Do not force things, look from all angles, create a new space if need be (if the existing one is too narrow or too broad), turn the pyramid upside-down and open up!
Down the hall, as I type, Link is playing with his dad.
He is laughing so hard with his dad right in this moment! Their voices are careening down the hall, all snorts and giggles punctuated with "I love you!s". The endorphins and feelings of confidence and security that are flowing through his wee, little body are the ultimate medicine, the greatest therapy. We weren't trained for this, but we are the best at it.
Yet, time and time again we must defer to the "experts" for what's "best". We wait for meetings and approvals and appointments. We wait for data and openings. Treatment plans and educational opportunities that are doled out by the experts who don't know or can't see or won't understand the boy their loss of humanity is affecting.
A tad dramatic? No. Not even one fucking dust speck of drama.
So while the clock ticks and time passes, we drown the blond boy of wonder and grace in goodness and humanness. We get him to laugh and smile and hug and kiss and share and joke from the second he wakes from his disastrous, troubled sleep till his glorious, fluffy head needs a pillow under it again. And so on and so on and so on until some expert, somewhere finds themselves under all their expertness and decides to be a human being again.