The first time the engine-shaped glowing light appeared on my car’s display, I took notice. I quickly sought mechanics to tell me if the check engine light was a genuine problem. After some minor work and knowledge from those who understand how my car runs, the light was gone and so were my worries about the situation. It was no big deal.
Some months later, that glowing engine light appeared again. I didn’t respond to the light right away as it was a busy time in life. Eventually, the light turned itself off before I could investigate the potential problem. Then, it was on. Then it was off. Repeat. You get the idea.
I learned to ignore the light all together. I was so accustomed to seeing that it was on that it became as common as the speedometer display. My car seemed to run fine, so I continued on as if nothing was wrong. One seemingly normal day, the RPMs ran high and then my car quit shifting. Even a poor mechanic, such as I, could diagnose that this situation was serious and potentially expensive. I was stuck without a vehicle for weeks as the transmission was fixed in my vehicle.
Photo credit: Nick Fewings on Unsplash.com
Parenting a child with special and medical needs has triggered all sorts of “warning lights” in my brain. Early on in my parenting journey, I recognized that I was experiencing stress out of the ordinary. The stress light came on and off without warning as I enrolled my child in early therapies, gave multiple heart medications each day, and measured every ounce of liquid she drank. It was all new territory for me.
I had many worries and fears about my child and my own ability to care for her properly. My mental and physical state was adjusting to the unexpected changes in life. Sometimes, I felt I was in control of everything. Other times, I knew I was struggling with depression and anxiety. The warning lights became stronger and steadier. However, I chose to believe that they would go off soon, signaling that I would be better—if only life was a little less hectic.
For years of caring for different developmental and medical issues with my daughter, I downplayed the obvious warning lights that flashed like a neon light. I recall the moment 10 years ago when I experienced my first panic attack. My daughter was in the ICU, rapidly declining, and getting prepped to receive a ventilator that would begin a 4-week touch and go situation in the hospital. During her health crisis, I struggled to stay afloat mentally. During her initial rapid decline, I sat in a chair trying to control whole-body shivers, while my heart raced and my muscles tensed. All of this could be explained away as understandable. After all, it was a scary situation. Once she was discharged, I would be okay. Or so I thought.
Eventually, my left arm became numb from tight muscles in my neck, shoulders, and arm. That was a stress response that I could no longer pretend was normal. I was hurting from the stress, and I didn’t know how to help myself.
I sought out other professionals over the years who became the “mechanics” of my system that I couldn’t fix on my own. A short stent in physical therapy helped me loosen and stretch my muscles. Massage therapists worked their magic on my tight muscles and large knots. They were probably the most instrumental in helping my body relax after years of tension, and are still needed today. Counselors brought another layer of expertise into the situation. They taught me how to recognize stress, allow stressful thoughts to simply pass by, and to ground myself when the world was spinning askew.
Of course, there’s God, ready to work with me. At times, I have felt like a worthless, faithless Christian as I have struggled with the curveballs life has thrown my daughter and me. I have wrestled with anxious thoughts that seem reasonable, but clearly benefited me in no way. I ask God to help me. And then I ask Him again and again.
It’s my prayer that God would allow me to experience more times when the warning lights are completely off. But even if a light is on, I pray that God would give me the strength and perseverance to work through challenges with His fruit of the Spirit. I also pray that God guides the right people in my life to help when I cannot do it alone.
Evana is a wife and mother of two children. She enjoys serving in her church’s special-needs ministry. Evana is also a pediatric speech-language pathologist and serves children with autism, feeding disorders, and other developmental delays. You can connect with Evana on Twitter, Facebook, and her blog, A Special Purposed Life. You can also read more about her family’s story in her book, Badges of Motherhood: One Mother’s Story about Family, Down syndrome, Hospitals, and Faith.
