Missing You

7_31_2020_missingyou

Today was different.

For the first time since March, I let out the breath that I didn’t know I was even holding. COVID sure changed everything for us.

When I entered the world of special needs parenting nine years ago, no one told me about how much it would change me. And demand so much from me all the time. So much so, that I’ve forgotten how to live any other way.

They also didn’t tell me that I would get to enter a secret world. A magical one. One that only some can see.

But today, today was different.

I didn’t worry. I didn’t chase. I stood still. I took it all in.

Today, I was a mother of two, not three. My sweet Cooper was at his grandmas getting spoiled.

Today was different.

I didn’t use timers or make lists. I didn’t say ‘first-then’ once.

I didn’t give meds or talk about trains. There was no anxiety or ADHD. There was no autism.

My house was quiet. Well, quiet for our house.

We went for a boat ride. Our family and two other littles. It was different.

I didn’t have to worry about much.

I didn’t chase at the beach. I didn’t worry about unsafe behaviors or a boy taking his bathing suit off and throwing it over the boat.

I didn’t worry about a meltdown or something going wrong. I wasn’t waiting for it to go bad.

It was different. Because there was no autism.

I get to be a different kind of mama when he’s not around. Less helicopter. More free range.

I get to sit in the sand and build sandcastles with my baby. And throw a football to my middle son. Because there is no timeline. Or worry about our time running out.

Today was different.

Different isn’t bad. It’s just different. And while I most certainly got less steps today, I am reflecting on the other things I missed. The amazing parts that he’s brought to my life.

I missed him.

I missed watching a little boy pick up a handful of sand, only to drop it slowly, as if studying each grain.

I missed that same boy turn his head into the wind and listen, as if hearing something magical that no one else can hear.

I missed him studying the sky and pointing out things only he can see.

I missed the pure joy when we passed a train. I missed my buddy always holding my hand. I missed adjusting his waistband a dozen times a day.

I missed him.

I missed his color. I missed his light.

Today was different. Good different. It was nice to be present. To be still. To not worry. To remember the old me.

But I sure missed my other boy.

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.

Avatar photo

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.

Share this post: