I had Plans for us Kid
I had plans for us kid. Big plans. Plans that I can admit didn’t include autism.
I was going to be one of those moms. The super involved moms.
You were going to be in sports. And have so many playdates and friends and birthday parties.
We would have couple friends. Who had kids the same age.
You were going to say the darndest things. Of course be adorable. And then handsome. And smart.
We were going to travel. And be really, really busy.
We would have endless conversations and be involved in everything.
Even today, after 8 years, sometimes I still find myself wondering how my plans got so derailed.
I’ll be giving you a bath, washing your feet, and I’ll look at you eating bubbles, throwing your head back, smiling, squealing, and I’ll wonder how this happened.
How we got here. Right here.
I was so scared of age 8. Just like I’m scared of age 15. And 30.
Or, I’ll be helping you with your shoes and you’ll grab my face, turning my cheek to look at whatever is on your screen, Barney or a favorite train, willing me to see how amazing it is.
And I’ll smile of course. But inside I wonder why.
Why are we still dancing to Barney. Why am I still feeding you spoonfuls of yogurt. Playing peek a boo and clapping when something fun happens.
Why my life is therapy, figuring out the mysteries of autism, first-then, researching, stress and appointments. So many appointments.
This wasn’t my plan. This wasn’t anything like what I pictured.
I thought we’d be starting third grade. Signing both my boys up for hockey. Squeezing in a family trip before school starts.
Instead, it’s more of the same. Progression. Regression. Improvements. Anxiety. ADHD. Self injuring. Hope. Fear. Repeat. And so on.
I didn’t picture any of this actually. But what pregnant mom would.
In a way we are frozen in time. A permanent place.
Only you are getting bigger. I am getting older. The seasons are changing.
You’ll be 9 in a blink of an eye. On paper that is.
The latest report, the ones I detest, say something like 2 years old. I hate those reports. They sting.
But as you get older, I find them providing comfort too. Answers. Understanding.
This is why I hold your hand in parking lots. Why we still play peek-a-boo and sing ‘If all the raindrops were made of lemon drops and gum drops.’ And why you put everything in your mouth. And need help getting dressed.
I want you to know that you can be standing squarely in acceptance. You can have your feet dug in firmly.
You’ve done the research. You’ve read the books and read the evaluations. You’ve been on the roller coaster. You got this.
You can wear the badge of autism mom proudly.
You are fearless. Nothing phases you
And yet you can still wonder why. How. You can still find yourself in the ‘this isn’t fair’ and ‘it shouldn’t be like this.’ And the ‘coulda, woulda, shouldas.’
Autism wasn’t part of my plan. And because of it…everything has changed. But I also have this.
A kid who has shown me the world in a completely different light. The kid who loves sounds and colors and the wind.
He forces me to slow down. To dig my feet in and fight. To sit in a crowded parking lot when a break is needed and twirl in store to The Wheels in the Bus.
He has taught me more about myself than anything I ever thought could.
He changed my plans. Threw them up in the air. And despite the hard I get this amazing kid.
It’s not what I pictured. Not the plan I had in mind. But we are okay. We are happy. I am blessed.
It is not better. Not worse. Just different.
With unbelievable joy and a little hard mixed in for color.
Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.
