I had no idea it would feel like this, no relief, no weight lifted, just heavy debilitating grief amongst the real smiling and laughing that travels
instinctively with a parcel of annoying children. Real life is messy and it doesn't take pause for any of us, not even mamas grieving a diagnosis
for the little people they call their own. No amount of wishing can turn back the clock to life before. Had I known how easy I had it? Mothering
is marked by a grand perspective of hindsight and to overcome it's hurt, one must be aware in the very moment of craziness and find something of
which to be thankful.
I am thankful. I am thankful for a husband that loves and requires very little in return. I am thankful for parents that would give me the moon if I asked. I am thankful for siblings that love and adore and seem to take their mysterious brother in stride. I am the one that seems to struggle the most, maybe that's the job of mamas, maybe it's just me, an imperfect soul in a sea of millions. It's quite disconcerting to adore someone so much yet find yourself crying over their very personhood. What does that mean? To be sad and thankful simultaneously is perhaps the hardest road I have yet to walk.
Grief. I was held captive quite a very long time and I'm not going to let that happen this time. I don't quite no how to start, but I'm finding that tears come first. I hate crying, detest weakness, feel ashamed of mourning a son I love, but I must. I won't make the same mistake I did nearly 27 years ago. When that boy that I first adored most in the world drifted away that hot July morning, I chained my vault of emotions and discarded the key. Do you know how much I want to do that today? Every bit of my innermost heart says run away, as fast you can, smile and don't ever look back.
It doesn't have to be like that, a choice of either or. The beauty is in the ashes, but choosing to sift through is quite a hurdle and I promise I will follow a little boy named Amos and I will walk alongside him and navigate a new world and all things that make him so perfect. He is perfect, you know, far more than I. They think our son has autism, I think that's the right place to begin.