My Hopes Are Not Wrong

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I’ve been thinking a lot about hope lately. And the right amount to have. Which is a funny thing to think about really. Because, how can one have the wrong amount of hope?

My son has autism. And somehow, no matter where I am on the ‘hope for his future’ spectrum, I seem to have the wrong amount for some people.

If I hope for words, I am told I should really be hoping for communication.

If I hope for independent living, I am told that I’m not accepting reality.

If I hope that our son can live with us forever, I am told I am being negative about his future.

If I hope that he learns to experience his birthday party, or a trip to the zoo or his brother’s baseball game without a meltdown, I am told that I shouldn’t care. Because he is happy. And that’s all that matters.

Hope. It’s complicated to say the least.

You see, as parents of special needs kids, sometimes it feels like we can’t get it right. Someone is always there to tell us we are doing it wrong.

Personally, right now I’m in a really good place.

I’ve got the right amount of hope for me. For right now. For this part of our journey.

I’m long past the shock of the initial diagnosis and hoping that my son would snap out of it.

I’m past hoping his autism goes away.

I don’t spend every day hoping for words. And I certainly don’t dwell on the words we don’t have.

Of course I secretly hope he starts talking. But I’ve learned that words aren’t everything.

I’ve learned to talk about life long care and the future in a positive way. Without crying.

I’ve also learned that I don’t like the Kate that spent way too much time hoping for things that weren’t really possible. She was sad. She wasn’t being the best mom she could be.

So, I changed. One day. Just like that.

I stopped letting the world tell me what I should hope for. And I took a long look at my amazing son and picked new hopes.

It was one of the most defining days of my life as his mom.

Because for the first time, I felt relief from the pressure. I set goals that were attainable. And I adjusted my hope to match.

Today, I hope that my son lives a long, happy, fulfilled, as ‘independent as he can be’, life.

I hope that one day he can experience all the gifts and wonder that the world has to offer.

I hope that he learns to show his brothers love and affection and I selfishly hope that one day I can take him to a restaurant and have lunch with him. And chat. That’s what I want.

See, my hope isn’t wrong. It may be different than yours. And that’s okay.

I want to tell you that you can hope for whatever you want. If you want to hope for speech…do it. If you want to hope for independent living…do it.

There is no right or wrong.

Figure out the right amount of hope for you and your child. Trust me, once you do, it will change your life.

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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.

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Kate Swenson

Kate Swenson lives in Minnesota with her husband Jamie, and four children, Cooper, Sawyer, Harbor and Wynnie. Kate launched Finding Cooper's Voice from her couch while her now 11-year-old son Cooper was being diagnosed with autism. Back then it was a place to write. Today it is a living, thriving community of people who want to not only advocate for autism, but also make the world a better place for individuals with disabilities and their families. Her first book, Forever Boy, will be released, April 5, 2022.

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