Epiphany
I ran out of deodorant the other day. Without any hesitation, I began siphoning off Jason’s Old Spice like a bandit thief in the night. I realize this isn’t the best look but I’ve promised you honesty here, and you can bet your boots I’m going to deliver on that.
Right now on the tippy top of my to-do list underlined in red you could find it written, clear as day - BUY MORE DEODORANT. I fully intend to purchase more! Only problem is, it’s been hotter than hades outside and I’m forgetful. Like it or not, this is typical Christie behavior and Jason always notices. He says nothing, but he knows that I know that he knows and all that jazz.
As of 5 p.m. yesterday, I decided that I was growing tired of smelling like a boy so I fired up a deodorant search on Amazon - no time like the present to try out something new, right?!?
Now, I’ve been clueless about a whole lot for most of my adult life but I did not realize the rabbit hole I was jumping into when I typed “best women’s deodorant” into that empty box.
It was 9pm and long after I put the kids down when I realized that I’d been looking at this stuff on and off for FOUR HOURS and apparently there is a lot more going on with this than I could have ever imagined.
I’m just gonna put it out there, deodorant is controversial, y’all! Yeah, I said it.
Just check out the reviews section on Amazon for whatever it is that you use.
I mean, I still don’t have the slightest clue of what deodorant to order?!?
In one corner of the antiperspirant boxing ring there is the all-natural type that will likely have me smelling like a sloppy wet dog in this summer heat. It lacks all the ingredients that are bad, so at least my arm pits would be crazy healthy?
In the other, there is the big brand type. Sure, it smells like a massage under a Hawaiian waterfall but at what cost to human health? According to science, these are filled to the brim with all the things that are cancerous, terrible, and likely to cause dementia.
This is a tough decision but it probably shouldn’t be, right?
I never quite understood the mammoth weight of choices. At least, not until I had kids.
Ever since Adelaide entered this world on April 29, 2016 and then Preston followed on May 18, 2017 - well, it’s only natural that the stakes have seemed so much higher. Information is ever-changing and options are endless.
Do I go with the UppaBaby or the Bumbleride?
Formula or breastfeeding?
Fancy fruit snacks from Whole Foods or the kind you find for two bucks at Kroger?
When it comes to potty training, is the brazelton approach best? Or, is it two-day method?
What about homeschooling, how do you feel about your child’s education?
And, do you vaccinate your kids?
Vaccines…I have so much to convey. I’ll begin by saying that Preston and Adelaide are up to date on their vaccinations. I’ve hesitated to speak on this subject for so long because I truly didn’t know what to say & the last thing I want is to cause destruction. Alas, my heart has grown heavy and these words might help somebody’s someone.
I took my shaggy haired baby, Preston, into his pediatrician’s office on June 22, 2018 for his shots and it went just fine.
Days trickled by, months morphed into a pair of hard years. One day it dawned on me that Preston met all of his milestones during his first year of life, some early. When was it that we started seeing symptoms of autism spectrum disorder in our son?
When did he change & did it even matter?
I won’t pretend to have every minute of Preston’s life photographed and recorded. I loved The Truman Show, could watch it over and over again, but that’s just not us. However, as a photographer and lover of film, I do have enough footage of Preston to remind me of some things and establish a timeline of the important milestones in his life.
I’ve pressed play on video after video.
Preston crawling early. Preston smiling at us. Preston speaking. DADA, DADA. Preston digging. Preston walking & running. Preston laughing.
All of it before mid year 2018. After that, we slowly started seeing changes.
His stomach started hurting a lot at night before bed. He quit making eye contact with us & looking up when someone would walk in the room. He became fixated and repetitive. It was like someone slowly started dimming the lights on his sweet soul.
When flipping through the images that document this change, it makes me sick. The pain, so raw. How could I not see what was happening right before my eyes?
Studies say there is no clear connection between the MMR vaccine and autism. Scientists say it’s likely just a coincidence of timing. Folks want a reason & they just grab hold of anything they can get their hands on. I don’t know about all that. That’s the one thing I am sure of - I do not know.
What would I do if I could turn back time? I truly cannot answer that.
I’ve always trusted science, doctors, really anybody in charge with a name tag that seems nice. These words I’m writing feel wrong, yet I find myself typing them out all the same. I’m not telling you to not vaccinate your child. I am telling you to do your research and then stand by your decision. I didn’t read any books or articles, I went in completely blind. And, that’s what bothers me the most - I questioned absolutely nothing.
I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never accept this choice I did or didn’t make. Will I ever know?
I’m caught in a loop, the same days and feelings on repeat. The nights run together. My heart aches and aches.
I tuck him in at night and say I love you, I love you, I love you, Preston. I LOVE YOU.
He says nothing back.
He looks past me.
He sees straight through me.
The glow in the dark planets we hung from his bedroom ceiling, all 9 have his attention.
He giggles.
I turn the lights off so he can’t see anything but the solar system above his head.
I wrap my arms around him, laying my head on his chest as silent tears drip drop from my eyes all over the front of his striped pajamas.
I walk down the stairs, Jason waiting.
“What’s wrong?” He says while hugging me tight.
I don’t answer.
“He’s perfect, Christie.” Jason says to my silence.
BUT, I’M NOT. That’s what my heart is screaming.
That’s the problem. I go to sleep with those words on full blast in my head.
I wake in the morning ready to kick the day directly in the fanny.
KA-POW! TAKE THAT, DAY. You thought you could mess with Preston & Adelaide’s mom? THINK AGAIN.
The spiritual reset I power through each morning in order to function, it is a choice I do not have to think about. It’s the only option I allow myself because it’s what my two babies deserve.
Recently, I realized that my constant prayers to God for guidance & acceptance were answered long ago. Looking around at my life and the beautiful family I’ve been given, I’m lucky to have something so dear to pray about.
Let’s circle back to choices.
If I’ve learned anything through this process it’s that most people are doing the best they can.
The mom you meet at the playground, it doesn’t matter what type of stroller she has. Not at all, not one bit. Does she give her kids those fruit snacks that you just do not believe in? DOES NOT MATTER. Do her armpits smell terrible because she’s trying to use the really healthy type she found on Amazon? STILL doesn’t matter. But, maybe find a way to tell her really nicely. Bottom line - let’s give each other some grace.
Last year Taylor Swift released Folklore - it was an album I didn’t know I wanted or needed. On first listen, I found it to be a delightful nod to days gone by and Mazzy Star. Quarantine seemed endless & from the abyss a unique Taylor emerged offering the world an almost ethereal collection of songs that played out like short stories - true and not.
Do Taylor Swift songs offer life lessons? Track 13, Epiphany, sure did a number on me. I’m not going to compare my life to a soldier in war on the beaches in battle or a nurse fighting on the front lines of COVID - there is no comparison. The words of this song do remind me of the big picture, a reminder I need everyday.
The pictures in both galleries are (obviously) all of Preston from yesterday. He is my favorite face to photograph and when he’ll tolerate it, I can’t help myself.
