The Mystery of Time

My son, when you were little, I would picture your future. Our future really.

The beginning was hard. Mama can say that. You didn’t like to sleep. Or eat. Or sit still. Or play.

You wouldn’t do any of the things that mama needed you to do either.

Stack three blocks? No way Jose. Sit in a circle full of friends and listen to a story? Not gonna happen mama.

Instead, you and I would do our own thing. It felt like we were in our own world. Just you and me.

And that was hard on mom. Watching everyone else from afar.

In those moments I wanted time to go faster. I wanted it to speed up.

I wanted to get to the easy parts that everyone talked about. The shooting hoops and jumping bikes. The building forts in the backyard and reading books together.

I pictured us building tall castles with Legos. And playing PIG at the neighborhood basketball court.

I pictured play dates. And never-ending birthday parties. I knew that soon enough it would be math homework. And trying to get you to wash your face.

I thought about the friends you would have. Even your first girlfriend.

I would tell myself in those moments of isolation, as I watched you pick up handfuls of sand and dump them out over and over again, mesmerized by each grain of sand, that one day soon I’ll be praying for time to slow down.

We just had to get through the challenging years.

Right now, I am sitting by you on the couch. You are 9 and watching Dora the Explorer. Boots is your favorite. You really love Boots. Every few moments you grab my hand and move it in the air.

You are holding the baby’s pacifier in your other hand, fiddling with it. Back and forth through your fingers. This calms you. I call it your fidgets.

You are surrounded by blankets and hundreds of photos, scraps of paper and books. I call this your nest. Your safe space. There are no Legos. Or toys.

Your brother just left to build a fort in the backyard with half of the neighborhood kids. You could care less. Because it’s warm here. And safe. And you have your things and your mom.

This is our world. You and me.

We live in a special place where at times it feels like time is frozen. Every day the same.

We hunt trains. We sit in the car and wait for that loud whistle. You gasp when you hear it. And I catch it on video so you can watch it over and over again.

I draw tractors and buses. We look at photos and talk about the faces we see.

We laugh at elephants. We dance to Barney.

You love when Bob Barker gives away a free car on the Price is Right.

We giggle at hiccups and sneezes. I tickle you. I kiss your neck.

You hold my hand. You sneak in my bed every night.

You smell like the wind.

You are always moving. And when I catch you, I never, ever want to let go.

It’s different than I pictured. And even more special than I imagined.

As a new mom, I thought we needed Legos, sports and words. I was wrong. Thank you kid for showing me that. And also, for giving me the time to appreciate it.

For so long I wanted life to speed up so we could get to the easy parts.

Funny, now all I want is for it too slow down so I can have more time with you. This you. The perfect you.

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