For me, as a mom, this parenting autism life, especially alongside my neurotypical children, has often like a contradiction. A double-edged sword or sorts. A constant contradiction of joy and grief, both coexisting and intertwined. Neither wrong.
A while back, I walked into a gym full of Sawyer’s peers and their parents and teachers. A living wax museum it was called.
And my son, Sawyer. He was Barack Obama. Or Barry as we learned he liked to be called.
He was lined up amongst his peers. He was ready to say the 30 second speech he had memorized.
I wasn’t expecting to be overcome with emotion. But I was. I walked into a room, one I don’t know if I belong in, and saw my boy standing and waiting. Typical development on display right in front of me. How effortless it seemed. How wonderful and amazing.
I sorta ran to him. And I gathered him in the biggest hug and whispered in his ear…”I am so proud of you Sawyer. You are simply amazing.” I held back my tears. I didn’t want to embarrass him.
What a gift it is to be his mom. That’s what I thought.
On the drive home I found myself wondering why some children get to talk, and stand in a circle with their peers, and present to rooms of people. And why some children don’t. It feels so unfair sometimes.
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