I first learned of Jenny McCarthy’s story when she and Evan were featured in People. After I had finished reading it, I wasn’t really sure how I was supposed to feel.
Then I remembered a conversation I had with my friend (and my son’s godmother). She talked about her trials as a mom of a child who had PPD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Disorder – Not Otherwise Specified). For those of you who don’t know what PPD-NOS is it’s a catch-all diagnosis for people on The Spectrum that have many but not all of the typical autism signs and symptoms.
We spoke of our frustration of how the media only listens when a celebrity has something to say about an issue like autism.
Why was it that the “regular, everyday moms” weren’t being interviewed by the masses?
Why didn’t the media answer our letters of outrage?
With nothing to sell, why didn’t someone want to listen to us?
I was angry with Jenny, but that anger was misplaced.
I should have been angry at the dentist who put 8 amalgam fillings in my mouth, in one day, when I was 12 years old.
I should have been angry for not knowing my complete biological history (paternal side unknown). Not knowing meant my son’s autism could have been inherited.
I should have been angry at myself for wimping out during my attempt at natural childbirth and opting for the Stadol then upgrading to TWO Epidurals. After 24 hours of active back labor, I just couldn’t take the pain anymore.
I should have been more informed about what was really in vaccines and simply said “no” to Thimerosal or opted for an alternate schedule.
I should have been angry at the government for not caring enough about it’s citizens by not following the leads of Europe and Canada when it came to stringent health and safety regulations. Sadly, the citizens don’t pay as well as Big Pharm and Big Chem (plastic) do.
I should still be angry… but I’m not.
I’m slowing learning to let go of this anger, because it doesn’t do me any good to hold on to it.
Being angry only takes away from me enjoying any happy moments that cross my path.
I’m tired of being angry.
I’m tired of blaming.
I’m tired of living in the past.
I don’t have any regrets for what has happened to my son. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.
I truly believe that his autism is what has made me a better person.
Weird? I know, but it’s true.