Okay Together

“You’re my best friend, Mommy.”

Yes, Baby.

There’s so much emotion attached to his statement. If I were the mother of a typical 3 year old, I wonder if I’d feel differently about his words. The fact is, I am his best friend (his mother, his OT, PT, speech therapist, his nurse, his advocate) and forever his biggest fan.

But as much as this melts my heart to know my sweet boy sees me this way, it also stings. It stings because I know it’s true. He doesn’t have friends in the traditional sense and I can’t help but wonder if he ever will.

I know what you’re thinking – he’s THREE! Stop overthinking!

We are early in our journey and there’s so much progress to be made. Yet still…my heart cannot help but ache and long for him to know true acceptance from someone other than his mother. I pray this every day as I drop him at preschool…

“Please, Lord. Give him a friend. Give him comfort and strength. Watch over him.”

There is so much we don’t know – can’t know – until it all unfolds. That’s hard for me. Really hard. I want to know if he’ll ever be able to comfortably associate with peers. I want to know if he will ever initiate instead of always needing an adult to prompt.

Some of the fiercest battles we fight as special needs parents are the ones inside our own hearts. We battle between fact and what we hope and pray will be. We do our best to stay strong and positive and sometimes…sometimes it just becomes too much. In spite of our best efforts, we crumble. Under all the pressures and demands, necessary and self-imposed, we succumb to the battle, knees falling to the rocky ground, and we plead with all that is in us to just make it all okay.

“Please, Lord, let it all, always be okay.”

And when we finally pick ourselves up, brushing off the fear, anxiety, and yes, sometimes anger, we see that our knees bear the scars of having fallen countless times before and yet still, we rise. We rise to do it all again and again because these precious souls have been entrusted to our care. And for as many times as we fall and hurt, they hurt just as much and more – and still, THEY rise.

Our babies fight no matter what. They don’t give up, they don’t complain, they march onward – and so must we.

I would battle thousands of lifetimes to be the mother of the son I have right now. He was meant to be mine, of this I am certain. Our souls have been, and always will be, eternally intertwined.

So yes, Baby. I am your best friend. Today, tomorrow, through every sting and every scar. Together, it will be okay. Together we are okay.

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Cherish the Valleys

Sometimes we can spend our entire lives waiting. And when we get there, our eyes are still set on the horizon rather than the ground beneath our feet. Sometimes we spend years climbing one mountain, we forget to live in the valleys between.
But what if the valleys are where memories are made? What if the valleys are where life is lived? What if this is the only time you have been given? Can you say you are using it wisely?

Time has a way of creeping up on you. I lived my life waiting for the “next” until experiencing life’s fragility taught me differently. It taught me to hold tightly to the moments. It taught me to live fully without holding back, embrace the mess of life and embrace the beauty. It taught me to cherish the valleys.
What if we spent our every moment looking ahead that we missed the very earth beneath our feet? What if we lived our whole lives hating the discomfort, hating the discontentment, when really, those things are what this life is made of and where the real growth happens.
Forge more life into each of your days! Cherish the valleys, the soil beneath your feet. Like the mighty oak, anchor your taproots firmly, then spring up and branch out; reach and stretch and allow yourself to be pulled toward the sun. When the winds of adversity blow, bend – but don’t break – and absorb all that this life has to offer.