Maybe Someday

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‘Dear 1st and 3rd grade families,

We will have our winter programs on Friday, December 13th. The first grade will perform at 9 am and the third grade will perform at 10 am.’

When I read that email I felt the familiar twinge in my stomach. Ugh. What are the odds that those two grades perform on the same day? Why? I do everything I can to avoid third grade boys.

See, I have a first and a would-be third grader. Except my third grader doesn’t attend school with his brother. He goes to a therapy center for autism. And it’s been a blessing. It saved his life. And ours.

But, and it’s a huge but, when I was walking in today to watch my 1st grader sing, and the mom next to me said, ‘do you have someone in both shows?’ I felt ill. Because I should.

Both of my boys should be here. And it hurts. And it’s okay to acknowledge that.

Sometimes the pain is real. Right or wrong. It still exists.

And who am I to complain? Good grief I have three beautiful, amazing children.

So, after feeling the sting, then beating myself up for being so selfish, I decided to practice what I preach and be thankful.

Today, I am thankful that I have 3 very different boys who are thriving in very different ways.

I am thankful that I get to watch my 1st grader sing in his concert because I know there are parents who are unable to attend.

I am thankful that my son is able to stand with his peers and perform, because I know there are many kids who are unable.

I am thankful that when I suggested to Cooper’s Lead Therapist that they have some sort of concert, play, sing-a-long, performance, or any excuse to get parent’s to the center to watch our kids be amazing, she was excited. And said she would talk with her team about it.

Because Cooper is 9 and he was never included when he was in kindergarten. Or asked. Or even considered. And that still stings. To this day.

Now he attends a center for amazing kiddos like him. Yet they don’t offer anything like.. But they are trying. They are trying to be less clinical and more, ‘these are kids, not patients.’

And for that I am thankful. Because above all, autism or not, they are kids. And we are parents. It’s as simple as that.

Any child can ring a bell, or dance, or twirl, or clap their hands, or stand, or lie on the ground, or face the wrong way. No matter how nonverbal or how severe.

My child should get a chance. He should get to be included. And as his mom, I should get the joy of watching him.

Today, I am thankful for Sawyer. And Cooper. And Harbor. And teachers and therapists who care.

And I am thankful for hope. Hope, that maybe someday…

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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