I Need you to Show me the Way Kid

Last night we went for a walk. You and me and the baby.

Sawyer was off riding bike with the neighbor kids. He finds walks with us to be a little boring I guess.

The rain had finally stopped for the day and I needed to get outside the walls of our house.

You know me kid and you know that sometimes mom feels a little batty when we spend all of our time inside.

I buckled your brother into his stroller and helped you into your shoes and hoodie.

And off we ventured.

You let us turn left out of the driveway.

Do you know that there was a time when you would not let us turn left. Walking or driving. Even saying it out loud makes me giggle now. But back then, a few months ago, it was no laughing matter.

Venturing out was really stressful. I saw a side of you that I didn’t understand. And that scared me. But we kept going. You and I.

It’s different now. You no longer run into traffic on purpose. You walk on the sidewalk. You seem to enjoy yourself. I think.

Tonight, we walked along. Slowly. Some would probably call it a mosey.

You stopped to point to a mud puddle. Then quickly stomped in it. And laughed.

You put your hands on the metal pole of a sign and then touched your cheek to it. You sighed.

And then you grabbed my hand. Finally allowing us to gain some ground.

We walked along. Me pushing the baby with one hand and holding onto you with the other.

Do you know that I used to have to hold you so tight. All the time. You’d always pull away. No matter what. You hated being held onto.

You’d run from me Cooper. There was even a time when you dove into oncoming traffic. Do you remember that? Your dad and I still have no idea what possessed you to do that. Dad dove after you though and caught you by your shoe.

He saved you Cooper. In an instant I could have lost you. We didn’t walk for years after that.

It was hard on me kid. Mommy can’t lose you.

Thankfully, it’s different now.

We were walking along. Together. Me and you.

I used to dream about this. That one day, we would figure out how to calm your body and mind.

We figured it out.

You turned your body into me, sneaking a quick hug and then reached for my iPhone from the stroller.

I let you have it. You took your hand back to turn on a tune by Barney and then put your hand back in mine.

You were half dancing, half walking, and happy.

My mind jumped ahead 10 years. You will be 18. I will be 46.

I know we will still be walking like this.

You and me. Only Harbor will be 10. He will be the one riding his bike with the neighbor kids. Sawyer will be 16. Driving a car.

But you and me kid. We will be walking just like this. Holding hands. Laughing at butterflies, pointing out airplanes and tracing our fingers over the letters of a license plate.

You will be a man. And I am sure I will have my share of wrinkles and probably some grey hairs by then.

I wonder if you will talk to me or if our walks will still be silent, narrated by Thomas the Train.

I wonder if you will be taller than me. I assume so. Your father is taller than me.

I wonder if you will still get mad at me if I turn the wrong way, or if the WIFI dies, and if you will drop to the ground screaming.

I don’t know.

But I do know I am scared Cooper. I am scared that I am doing it wrong. Or that I won’t be strong enough to care for you forever. And I don’t mean just physically.

I’m scared of 18. I’m scared of adulthood.

Sometimes, I get so scared it’s hard for mom to breathe. I try not to think about it but in a way that scares me more. So I try to picture it.

You and me. Walking. A man and his mom. Holding hands. I picture people staring at us. Wondering why. I wonder if I’ll care.

I need you to show me how to do this. I need you to be patient with me. I need you to know that I am doing my every best every single day.

I don’t know what the future holds. I can almost picture it. But there are too many variables I guess.

What if something happens to you? What if someone hurts you? It’s just too much sometimes to even think about.

Just keep showing me the way Cooper. No matter what happens, I will be right here beside you forever. I promise you that.

Interested in writing for Finding Cooper’s Voice? LEARN MORE

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, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.