He’s My Joy

My sweet boy,

This morning I looked back on something I wrote a year ago. About a hard moment we had.

And as I sit here, I can’t believe how much progress you have made in 12 months.

You are thriving Cooper. You are figuring this confusing world out.

And we are figuring out how to balance it all.

Walking alongside you.
Stepping back when you got it.
Paving the way when you need help.

It’s a delicate dance. A push pull.

I hope we are doing it all right. I pray it’s the right things.

I’m proud of you kid. A year ago. And now. Always. ❤️

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Back when I was new to mothering, and new to autism, and also new to challenges outside of my control, I would spend a lot of time wondering and worrying.

Wondering why it was so hard and worrying that it would be hard forever.

Maybe that’s wrong, I guess I don’t know. That was my path.

The why’s would consume me if I let them. Just like the hard moments that accompanied a little boy who struggled in this world. I would dwell on them, long after they were over.

I would let the hard sting of a meltdown steal my future joy.

I regret that.

Today, my autistic son had a really hard time at the park. We went for a family walk after our Easter dinner.

It seemed like a lovely idea since it was a perfect weather day.

Only, Cooper didn’t think so. And he struggled.

We put on quite the show. Him, his dad, and me. There was noise. So much noise. And running. And dropping and rolling on the ground. And keeping a little boy safe from himself.

We got lots of stares. And whispers.

I noticed some children even left.

It was hard. There is really no other way to describe it.

But we made it home after. We got him up. We got him moving. We got him smiling and laughing.

And after his anger and frustration had cleared, he pulled me in for a hug and touched my lips. He held his fingers there for what felt like an eternity.

This is his way of saying sorry. Our way. The nonverbal way.

And for the next few minutes we talked through what had happened. And how we could have made better choices.

And my boy made sure I wasn’t mad. He used his eyes and his hands to pull me close and to make sure.

See, this boy, with the loud sounds and dramatic actions is all heart. Every ounce of him. And he can’t imagine anyone ever being mad at him. Or disappointed.

He couldn’t handle it.

I reassured him that I wasn’t mad a dozen times.

Because I’m not.

An outside looking in would probably think our Easter was ruined. And years ago I may have thought the same thing too.

But not this year.

We dyed eggs together as a family. He adored his Easter basket. He even went on an egg hunt with his brothers.

And after a really hard moment he told me he was sorry. All without words.

Mad? Never.

It was a great day with a few hard moments.

I have learned to hold tight to any joy that comes my way and this kid…he’s my joy.

With a little color mixed in.

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. Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and join our supporter page, Coop’s Troops, for an amazing community full of support and understanding.