A Letter to my Pregnant Self

Looking back at pictures of myself while I was pregnant does not bring back much sentiment. Instead, they make me sad.

I look at the woman in those photos, so full of hope, so desperate to be a mother, oblivious to how drastic her life is going to change, and it just breaks my heart.

If I could write a letter to her, I don’t know what I would say.

Do I sugarcoat things for her to let her enjoy the time of ignorance, of denying, of saying, “he’ll catch up?”

What about my other pregnancy? What would I tell that woman?

The woman in those photos is just as oblivious, assuming it will be challenging for her son to have a big brother with special needs, not even thinking for a moment that this baby will have special needs himself.

The woman in these photos is planning on talking to her children about their emotions, teaching them how to acknowledge their feelings but also telling them what is expected of them in society and how their actions will make other people feel.

The woman in these photos is not trying to figure out how in the world she is going to get her nonverbal children to communicate that their tummies hurt.

The woman in these photos is planning on giving time-outs based on ages, deciding whether or not to give her children an allowance for chores, and wondering if she should make her children pay for their first car.

I don’t know what to say to this woman.

I want to tell her to brace herself and that she has no idea what is coming.

I want to tell her that she has to give up complete control of the life she has planned for her family.

I want to tell her that everyday she will wake up and for a split second forget that her children have special needs, that her babies will need her forever and that they will not be spending their evenings at soccer practice or music lessons but instead at occupational, developmental, speech, and physical therapy.

But I know that these tidbits are not the advice that this woman needs. This woman will feel every inch of these emotions for years and years to come. No, if I could write my pregnant self a letter, I know she would need to hear this:

Your children are amazing and wonderful and bring you joy you never knew was possible.

You will not be celebrating their trophies for being on a championship baseball team or hanging up their certificate for being on high honor roll. Instead, you will be shouting from the rooftop when you see them use a spoon, or learn to sit on the couch, or push their toy truck… and there is beauty in that.

I would tell this woman to throw away those baby books, stop looking at the milestones…your babies aren’t there, they may never be, and that’s okay.

Also, I would tell her nothing about motherhood is fair for you.

You will have to work a thousand times harder to get your children to learn something that other children just pick up naturally.

You will watch children who are younger than both of your boys surpass them in speech, physical coordination, and academics, and nothing about that is fair.

But, I would also tell her, “you have to embrace joy, to choose happiness, to accept help, and fight for change.

Your children are still children, and it’s okay to put down all of the fine motor toys, stop doing hand over hand practice, quit working on imaginary play, and cancel therapy sessions now and then.

Your children deserve a mom who takes a break and just enjoys them and all of their wonderfulness.

I would tell her to cry when she needs it, to laugh whenever possible, and to get up each day and be ready to do it all over again. Because nothing about her life as a mother can be prepared for, no book can tell her about the emotional roller coaster of being a special needs mom.

And above all, I would tell her to love, to love her life, to love the chaos, to love being different, and to love herself.

Written by, An Anonymous Mother

Finding Cooper’s Voice accepts guest posts from writers who choose to stay anonymous. I do this because so many of these topics are hard to talk about. The writers are worried about being shamed. They are worried about being judged. As a writer and mother I totally get it. But I also understand the importance of telling our stories. And this will ALWAYS be a safe place to do it.

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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.