“Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” – Elizabeth Stone
One of my favorite things about Cooper has always been his cheerful disposition, so when he started having crying outbursts at school and fake coughing in the mornings in hopes that I’d keep him home my heart hurt. We have a great team that is working hard with us to help him feel less anxious, but it doesn’t make my heart ache any less on the days his eyes well up at school drop-off. I hug him and over-enthusiastically tell him to “have a great day!” even though I feel like I’ve been emotionally sucker punched. Then I wave feverishly and smile bravely until he disappears into his classroom and pray I can avoid my own crying outburst in front of the other moms.
Then yesterday, when he stood up in front of our entire church congregation and said audible words into the microphone during our annual Primary program I thought my heart might burst with pride. Just one year ago this same program made my heart hurt as the difference between him and the other kids seemed so painfully obvious. This year there was still a difference, but he’s gotten bolder and that made my heart soar.
I didn’t give it much thought before becoming a parent myself (sorry, mom and dad), but being a parent of any child (because they all have their struggles) is brave work. I often find the emotional rollercoaster ride of parenting to be disorienting and some days I think the highs and the lows just might do me in – and we haven’t even had to deal with anything heart wrenchingly difficult. It can be uncomfortable to feel so intensely. Every time I think my heart has been stretched to the breaking point we have a small triumph or a nudge from above that reminds me we’re being watched over.
Last week I dropped Cooper off at school on a day that it was pouring rain. The kids got to go in the front door instead of lining up on the basketball court outside. Cooper was thrown off by the change and I left him in the classroom looking a bit bewildered. As I was leaving the building I found myself walking next to one of the other moms in the class and we started talking. After exchanging pleasantries, she asked how Cooper was adjusting to school. Even though I’m pretty open about Cooper’s ASD diagnosis I rarely spring it on people when I first meet them, but today I did. “He has Autism Spectrum Disorder, pretty high-functioning, but it makes being in a class with that many kids kind of rough sometimes.” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about the possible repercussions. As it turns out she’s an occupational therapist who works with kids like Cooper all the time. We had one of the most comfortable conversations I’ve ever had with another mom about Cooper’s challenges and even though it didn’t change our struggles, I felt like one more person understood us and somehow that made my heart feel a little bit stronger.