I've been setting up my Squiggly Rainbow website and asked my amazing friend Hannah to write a bio for me. The only thing I asked her was that is was whatever she felt to write - and it was okay to include Autism and if it could reflect me. When I read it, I had tears. Tears that a beautiful friend could know me so well. Like the ditty "A true friend knows the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you have forgotten the words"
Yesterday we went to church and I was speaking about our move to the hills. Upon the question of how it is going, I held back tears. I responded that it is lonely. Lonely because we are going through a whole transition as a family. Lonely because all my babes are at school now. Lonely because I can't have any more.
I met some new mothers there. The time of playgroup and carting toddlers around seems so long ago. It's a type of grief. The grief has many faces. The grief that bearing more children (unless a miracle occurred - which I do pray for) would most likely see me rocking singing Vincent over and over in my head. The grief that the connection with my boys is limited and revolves around their Autistic minds. The grief in analyzing all that grief.
In that loneliness and grief - my Miss G had tears this morning asking if she could be home-schooled. I don't think I could home-school the boys. I feel I don't have the know-how to home-school Miss G. She is so, so bright. She loves people and I do believe she is at the right place at the blessed school.
I have my new routine and am enjoying that. The transition is interesting. Times are changing in our home. Friends have gone. New ones to be made. New rituals and traditions. It is refreshing, but why am I feeling that grief?
Love Rach xo