I am His Person and He is Mine
My son Cooper is always with me. Always in the same room. Always near me.
We move throughout the house together. He’s my little shadow. Never doing what I’m doing. Just always near.
He sits outside the bathroom door. He waits for my shower to be over.
The kid that seems to be oblivious to almost everything knows where I am at all times.
When I’m gone he asks for me. He waits on the porch. Or near the door.
He asks for me with his speech device…’I want mom.’ Over and over again.
He is eight years old now and as he ages, I’ve noticed the dependence on me getting stronger.
When in reality it should be lessening. But, our world is different. He is on his own path. He has severe, nonverbal autism.
As his mother, I understand him. I have him at the center of my universe.
I am his person. In a way he is mine too.
Our bond is real. And runs deep.
He doesn’t have friends or obligations. No playdates or games. He’s always home with me or dad.
Jamie and I joke that we haven’t been alone since he was born.
He’s dependent on us in a unique way that only people in our world would understand. And I am obsessed with him in a way too I guess.
I know what he needs. I know what he wants. I even feel off when he’s not here. It just doesn’t feel right.
With my other son Sawyer it’s really never been like this. He’s six. He has friends already. Play dates and sleepovers and sports. He’s busy.
He has a life. People he loves. Depends on.
He’s growing up. In a way, it feels like Cooper isn’t.
Frozen in time. In a world with Barney, Elmo and Thomas the Train. The same songs. Over and over again.
There is sadness in that. And beauty too. I get to experience so many special moments longer. Maybe forever.
I often wonder if Cooper and I act like some old married couple. We are always ‘chatting’ with each other. Arguing. Sitting on a porch or couch together.
We go for walks holding hands. And drives as well.
We go out for ice cream. Or I get a coffee and he gets a cookie. He points to water towers and trees. I tell him about my day. He tunes me out.
I picture the future and what we will look like. Me and my boy.
Me at 50. And then 70.
A mother and a grown man.
I am his person.
Does any one else feel this way? Or wonder what the future looks like?
Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our newsletter.
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