This World Needed You
This year, we stand on the edge of the end of your 5th year, right on the precipice of you turning 6.
It has been over 3 years since I last heard your voice elicit words spoken from your heart as you yelled goodbye to your beloved garbage trucks as they turned out of our neighborhood out of sight.
Now, you rarely glance up to watch the garbage trucks when they come by. Most days, I really cannot believe we are here…I thought we would have heard those words again by now.
What you were capable of at ages 1, 2 and even 3 are so incredibly difficult now for you at age 5. The memory of what once was only emphasizing the pain of your continued regression, despite years of intervention.
This is where we are.
The severity of your autism is reflected in your struggle to communicate and the difficulty you now have in engaging with us.
Yet, as you seek out paper, tissues, grass, and string, and pull strands of my hair to twirl rather than play with your siblings, cousins, friends or toys – I feel peace.
You are exactly who you are meant to be. You are our gift. You are the reminder of everything that is good, and whole, and right in this world.
You are unmaterialistic.
In a modern world, you could care less about technology and TV shows, instead caring more about the way the wind blows through the trees, and the way the blades of grass you tear float through the sky like confetti as you let them go.
You convey your love for us with just a look, a touch of our eyes, and a kiss of our foreheads.
You ARE love, showering your older brother with affection and adoration, and learning to laugh with your baby sister.
Because of you, we have been exposed to the very best of humanity and all of the goodness that truly does remain on this earth. We needed you, Carter. This world needed you.
This year, I resolve to be a stronger mother for you, Landon and Sadie.
To forgive myself for my periods of grief. To allow myself to hold on to and remember what was, but to accept where we are… to meet you where you are.
To allow myself to continue to believe in you.
To continue to hope beyond hope that we will one day see you play easier, and be able to show us what you know and how smart you are, but also to allow you to exist in the world in the way that works for you.
To not allow societal norms to define what a meaningful life means for you, me, your daddy, brother or sister.
I resolve to remember, every day, that as hard as it may be for me to see you struggle, it is SO much harder for you. Yet every single day, you wake up smiling and ready to keep going, and keep trying.
You persevere with a strength and grace far beyond your years, a reminder that anything is possible with a little hope and a lot of determination.
Keep twirling your string and finding beauty in the small things, my boy. I promise to hope more and (try to) worry less. Thank you for being ours.
To 2019, and the path to peace in all of our lives.
Written by, Mallory Pettiford-Jones
Mallory is a wife and mom of 3, on a journey to help her son find his voice again (in whatever way that may be) with the help and support of her family. When her son first lost his voice and slowly began to regress into autism, she felt hopeless and alone. The journey continues to be difficult, but instead of hopelessness, it has given her life a new perspective of gratitude and love, and she occasionally shares stories of their life on Instagram @mallorypjones.
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