Somewhere,  in the contemplation of my 100th post (and now, this is that post), I fell down, between some cracks.  There’s a lot going on in my world (as it is with everyone else), between trying to learn about autism, and implement that knowledge, and trying to keep a full plate for my growing baby girl, and my marriage, writing, and all of the rest.

The sleep deprivation was getting pretty bad for everyone.  I’m trying to keep on reading other peoples books, articles, blogs, and I’m also trying to map out the rather epic saga of my own fictional creation.  I love it when my friend Simon comes over with his kids, and we talk passionately about writing, and I feel like an inch of myself. A wave of life swamped me, but I am treading water, and soon I will swim again. I have such wonderful life buoys, you see.

Meanwhile, here is a poem that I have been working on, and along with it go my thanks for you -precious band of readers who have been here for however many of the 100 posts, cheers to you with many bubbly glasses of lovely and cheer x x x

not knowing

You’re kissing his forehead, while he snuggles
under the covers, all feet and elbows, and
you nuzzle that sweet, bony curve above his brow,
that your husband recognised, amazedly,
in the the bone structure of your Great Uncle Neil- when
your son was just a baby still,

and you are suddenly felled by a thought:
What if I am the only woman who ever kisses him?

You had thought that, inured to grief under
other, older circumstances,
you had avoided it in this instance,
telling everyone that the diagnosis was no shock.
It was a relief to put a name on things,
and staunch the ever flowing bleed of confusion
begun from his birth-

this indifference to toys, the incessant waking;
and the little bird like movements of his hands;
a cold aloofness in the face of stranger’s smiles;
fleeting eye contact and selective deafness;
no word for mother, or father,
or love;
the list of small deficits that you couldn’t
put your finger on-

we didn’t know him completely
until we learned the words
for the strangeness of what seemed
off kilter; just slightly
parallel to expectation.

“Difference, that’s what it is,
and it’s fine to be different,”

I said, in the face of whole oceans
of hazy unknowns,

learning from my son
unquantifiable knowledge,
the words from his mouth-
not an echo-
like the jewel of water
when it is the only
prize worth having, but

I never armoured myself
against a surfeit of kisses
for him, and more –
go the terrible
flood-gates of this doubt.

I have no ideas,
love aside.

PS I was going to do a giveaway for this milestone post, but I read someones post on a forum about no one entering their give away!  I thought I would wait for the 3 year anniversary of the sands and then give away some lovely things that would be irrestistable.  What do you think? Do you enter giveaways if they’re something that you would like?

Linking with Jess for #IBOT