Today is my first born’s 12th birthday. This milestone has caused me to reflect on our family journey as never before. It seems to me that the age of 12 seems to be a turning point from kid to young adult to only God knows what! And a turning point for me as well.
My son was born with complications during an ice storm in Kansas City on January 16, 2002. He came into this world via an emergency Caesarean section, but otherwise, a very healthy 10 pound baby. His father and I, as most parents, were overwhelmed with joy but terrified. We prepared by reading every book on the topic of how to do everything right as new parents. This is what I wrote in his baby book as my hope for him:
“My prayer for you is that you will grow to be a happy, independent adult that loves people and really cares about yourself and others. I hope you always follow your heart to help guide you through life. I hope laughter will be a part of every single day.”
That advice to him, I now understand, was really advice for me.
Since he was born, I have attended to every single quirk (“Why is he three months behind his peers walking? Is that normal?”), every runny nose (“Does he have a clogged sinus? How about his tear ducts? Is that right or is this chronic?”), every lower-than-average grade in math (“Does he have a learning delay? Should he be in special education?”) and every wrong move (“Don’t do that, you won’t have any friends”). I’m telling you, this kid has been managed. “Why can’t I just let this kid be?”, I would tell myself frequently.
There were some benefits of not “letting him be”. He has recently been diagnosed with PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Delay- Not Otherwise Specified) and is on the Autism spectrum. I was so proud of myself that I got to the bottom of all the symptoms, all the doctors, all the diagnoses. While this diagnosis doesn’t change his treatment much from before the diagnosis, it does help answer many questions. However, I have worked so hard on figuring out him, that I forgot about figuring out me.
I think as a mom I get so busy, so intent on “taking care of my kids”, that I live a life outside of myself. I am just plain out of tune with what God wants for me and what I want for myself. A close friend asked me recently, “What do you dream about for your future?” and I honestly had never thought about it. I am proud to be a diligent, on-task mom. I am. But I lose myself in it all and I believe my kids lose some too. As my son turns 12, I realize that now only he can create the life he deserves, full of what he decides for himself. He can decide how he wants to manage his diagnosis or if he will be happy. I can hope and help and guide and pray. But it is up to him. And my life is up to me. So, on this very important birthday of his, I am dedicating this year to taking my own advice from 12 years ago. I will follow my heart. I will have laughter in every day. I will care about myself. I will begin the process of getting to the bottom of me.
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