A reminder that I failed

I will admit that most days are easy. Too easy, maybe.

But then I get thrown those doozies.

The days that are hard. Oh, so hard.

The days when my typically sweet and loving 2 year old is so violent I have to leave him to play alone in his own room so that he is safe and H is safe. When my typical gentle and empathetic 2 year old seems like he's possessed.

And on those days, though rare, few and far between, those are the days that make we wonder, "Is this what they were talking about?" The doctors and nurses who worked so vigilantly with me when he was first diagnosed with lead poisoning.

Is this it?

While he spent every single day in my care - playing with the toys I provided him, riding in the car seat I had prudently researched, living in our dream house - every single moment, spent with me, in the "perfect" environment...being poisoned. Every day, poisoned a little more.

And a little more.

Those are the days when the wind gets knocked out of me and I find myself on my knees, making all kinds of crazy bargains with God. Because that's what people do when they're scared, I suppose.

I promise God that if this is the "neurological behavior disorders" that I was warned and schooled about, that if He just let's it go away and never happen again, I'll do anything.

I won't be even slightly annoyed when one of my kids wake up for the umpteenth time in the middle of the night. I'll stop and play with them no matter what I'm in the middle of if they ask. I won't ever act like I'm running low on energy and I'll be even more present in their lives (if that's even possible). I will do anything.

Always, B is amazing. Always, I adore him. On rare occasions,  he becomes another person. A baby boy I don't quite recognize. Someone so scared and lost inside of his own body, clearly unable to control what is going on, scared, and I don't know the right way to help him. So I hold him and I rock him. When he's too violent I put him in his own room for everyone's safety. And I curse myself for letting this happen to him.

For letting my baby get poisoned by the things I gave him. The environment I put him in.

Fuck, those days are hard. Knowing I allowed something terrible to violate my sons body, and I just stood idly by, completely unaware. Until it was too late.

Yeah, most days are easy. But then I get drop kicked off my high horse, and am forced to vividly remember and experience my greatest failing as human being and as a mother. And no amount of peaceful parenting or self-forgiveness could ever make that situation right.

So I accept it. I hold that sweet boy a little too tightly, love him more than I think is possible, and hope that some day when he's old enough to understand, he'll forgive me. The person who was supposed to keep him safe; the person who was supposed to protect him always; and failed.