Your brother saw the ocean for the first time about a month before we knew you. The expanse stopped him in his tracks leaving him silent and still. The moment you were born 11 years ago today you cried and screamed and when they held you up for me to see I instinctively whispered your name. You stopped crying, found my eyes and you were silent and still and you took my breath away. Your presence in our lives has been like seeing the ocean for the first time–beautiful and tumultuous and every day is like seeing the world in a way no one else gets to. I feel lucky I get to be your mom. Happy Birthday sweet A2…….
L is for Love
Because L is ALWAYS for love when it’s about your child.
As a parent, as do many special needs parents, I find it confusing and sometimes a little unsettling when people say to me “I don’t know how you do it” or “I don’t think I could do what you do” or elevate my parent-ness to the likes of a saint. People are well meaning-I know the awkward sentiment is often a compliment of sorts, but it’s hard to respond. What is the most difficult thing you would do for your own child? Push him out of the way of a bullet and take it yourself? That would be mine, because caring for my child and meeting his needs is not even a close comparison to taking a bullet. We love our children with parts of our souls that we did not know existed before they were here. And I promise, guarantee, pinky swear you absolutely 100% WOULD know how we do what we do and you would do it too because there is no other option in the surrendered obligation of the deep love for your own child. So…if you have said this before to an autism parent, do not fret I don’t speak for everyone–we get what you mean. Moving forward consider this sentiment and instead try, “what is it like to be ______’s dad?” Or “how is physical therapy going?” Or “what is the most useful thing I can do to help?”.