She broke me in.
He broke me down.
Ten years ago today the sun was shining. It was unseasonably warm, and I remember basking in it on the way to the hospital- hoping that maybe it would make the anxious excitement that was encompassing me turn into just excitement. It didn’t. He didn’t cry when they pulled him out, and I remember thinking that was weird. He softly cooed and chatted to everyone in the room, and even my doctor commented on that. He was big- he didn’t look like a newborn who had just joined us earthside. He looked like a 3 month old, with a full head of hair, a personality that started to show immediately and cheeks for days. We joked that for the first several years of his life there was Momma and not Momma, and I’m pretty certain that phenomenon began when they put him in my arms the first time.
I didn’t know then what the next two years would hold, but damn even if I did- I’m not sure I would have done anything different. He loved me endlessly, and cried when he was in almost anyone else’s arms. I think our connection was built in those first years because it would build me up for the next several years after autism became an official part of our lives. And when it does- one of the things people will tell you is that the gap will begin to widen as your child gets older. They’re not wrong- it does. There are a lot of things that a typical ten year old will do on a regular basis that he can’t or just won’t. But what they don’t tell you when you get that diagnosis is about how the gap wouldn’t matter because you’re too busy marveling at the way that this kid sees the world you forget about all the things he isn’t doing. Because what he IS doing- the shit he says, the way he views the world, the way he makes you earn a spot in his life and in his heart, the unabashed honesty with which he communicates, the passion he feels in his heart about so many things- oh man it just takes your breath away.
He broke me down in all the best ways possible when he was born. I thought I knew what I was doing, I thought I knew how to parent, I thought I knew how to handle tricky situations, I thought I knew how to communicate. I didn’t- and he taught me that. He’s continuing to teach me that every single day.
When he turned five, it felt monumental because five meant the autism diagnosis had been in our lives for over half of his life. Today he turns ten, and it feels monumental and reflective because the fact that we’ve been doing this for ten years?? It feels like it needs to be celebrated. Parenting isn’t for the faint of heart, and special needs parenting is its own breed of special requiring more patience and love than I thought I had in me. But this kid? He’s taught me to see red when everyone else might see blue.
Happy 10th Birthday to the kid who changed our stars.
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