My name is Taha: Three
Taha turned six mashallah in February. We just did an immediate family get together at home and he was happy. While I travel like crazy trying to make numbers work, Fawzia has been holding the fort at home and at work. Yesterday morning she sent me a piece that I think you should also read. There is so much that I want to say here but I think Carter does a much better job than I could do.
To Fawzia, the super mom in Amin, Salwa and Taha’s lives.
“Because no matter how much I know logically all that we have done for our son, it never feels like enough. It’s the endless loop in my head: could’ve, should’ve. After he was first diagnosed, I continually felt as if there were always one more therapy, one more intervention, one more special diet out there to try, that that would be the critical one, the magic, miraculous cure that eluded us, and that if we didn’t try, it meant we weren’t good parents.
The recriminations. What did I do wrong during my pregnancy? Was it that Advil I took the week before I realized I was pregnant? Did I not play with him enough as an infant? Not go to enough conferences, seminars and workshops? Or go to too many that took me away from him? Should we have taken him to see other experts? I should have done more.
But I don’t know what more could have been. Sometimes, in dark moments, I think, I have not been a good enough mother. Because if I had, he wouldn’t be autistic anymore.”