Hearing...'I Need to Call my Mom...'

When my son’s autism was discovered ten years ago, I wasn’t ready to think about the future.

Nope.

I focused solely on the present and helping him. And it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t like help just rolled in. I learned quickly there is no prescription for autism. Instead, it was trial and error. And a whole lot of advocating (fighting) for services and supports. But hard work paid off. And he was worth every bit of the hard.

When he turned 8, I was ready to dip my toe into learning about forever. See, for me, it was a process. I was scared of acceptance in a way. Because, accepting that my son may never talk, work, live independently, drive, etc., well, it felt sad. And scary. And a little bit like giving up.

But, I learned, that I was wrong. It wasn’t giving up. It was looking at life differently. It was saying goodbye to expectations. It was focusing on joy and happiness.

And slowly, acceptance has come. To me, it’s been like a breath of fresh air. A weight lifted. Peace.

But life has a way of happening too. My son is 13. He is a teen. Son he will be 16. Then 18. And then a man. And the realities of growing up differently have washed over me. The gifts not bestowed on him. Like waves. Same fast and hard. Leveling me. Some slow and gentle. Like waking up.

I’ve learned his peers will get their drivers licenses.

I’ve learned one day his babysitters will be younger than him.

I’ve learned that his nieces and nephews may someday surpass him in certain areas.

I’ve learned college applications will come.

And opportunities to vote. And guardianship at age 18.