Some Days I Want More
Some days I want more.
Hi there. My name is Kate. I am a mother to four children.
I share that because my life is full. Fuller than full. There is very little quiet. There is never a day without laundry. And I get no less than a hundred hugs a day.
I am an expert in putting bandaids on owies, blowing on mac and cheese, and finding blankets before bed. Skills I never knew would be so important and vital to life.
My first born, Cooper, is ten. He will be 11 in 55 days. We are counting down.
He wants the same thing we get him every year for presents. Which makes it easy I guess. Brightly colored paper and train movies from EBay.
He made me a mother. And we have been navigating the uncharted waters of autism together ever since. I don’t know a day of motherhood without autism. Either does he.
I spend much of my time in the ‘in-between’ space. One where we communicate with looks and grunts. Where we dance to music in the living room. And waddle like penguins.
And study the sky for airplanes.
One where I hold his hands gently and kiss them when they want to hurt. I know how to give a bear hug to protect his body from hurting itself. I know how to talk him through his hardest moments. And love him fiercely when the world is not kind.
He has given me a world that most will never experience. And for that I am blessed. I get to see the world in a different light. The unbelievable kindness that exists. Cruelty and discrimination too.
He doesn’t speak. Not with his mouth. And I can say with full transparency that most days, most moments, and most experiences, I am just fine with that.
I wasn’t always. I used to be filled with longing and fear and even a bit of jealousy. But most of that is gone now. Replaced with a feeling of contentment. Like an old married couple rocking in chairs on a porch. Smiling at trains.
I am fiercely proud of him for navigating a world where he doesn’t speak the language. That’s important to know.
I laugh and smile and I do not think about a life with words. I truly don’t.
But yesterday. He rode a new bus to and from school.
Like always he waited on the front steps 20 minutes early because he was so excited. He waited in silence.
And when it pulled up he gasped. And clapped. And then for a brief second I saw a little bit of fear in his ruddy eyes.
But he got on and didn’t look back. I swear my heart skipped a beat as I waved to his reflection through the window. And I willed god to keep him safe and protect him.
And last night I asked him a dozen questions.
Did he make a friend?
Did he enjoy the ride?
Was the driver nice? The aide?
Was he happy?
Excited to ride again?
And instead of answering his hands flapped with joy to the music of Blue Mountain Mystery.
Some moments, I want more. I need more. Just a glimpse. A shred. An ounce of more.
More of him.
More of his day.
More of his world.
Because I am just a spectator too. I walk alongside autism. Sneaking inside when I can. Pulling bits and pieces into my ‘in-between’ space.
I let myself feel the sting for a second. And feel sad and slighted.
And then I stole a kiss and went back to making dinner.
Some days I want more.
More of him.
But good golly I am thankful for what I have too.
If this post touched your heart, you will love my book. Grab a copy today of Forever Boy.
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.
