Hope, Autism, and a Mother’s Heart
Hope.
Gosh I hear that word a lot.
Have hope.
Never give up hope.
All we can do is hope.
If we give up hope, than what do we have left.
Hope and I have had a rocky relationship over the last few years.
For years I hoped nothing was wrong with my baby.
Then I hoped my toddler would catch up. And then I hoped that it was ‘just’ a speech delay. Then I hoped it wasn’t autism. And once I found out that it was, I hoped he was high functioning.
Later I hoped for words and hugs and sleep and that we could leave the house and that we could stand still as a family.
I hoped so much I drove myself crazy.
And I even lost my hope for a while. And people came after me for that too.
I learned that I could never have the right amount of hope to make everyone happy. See, hope is a funny thing.
Because to the outside world, I was hoping to change my son. Or not hoping enough. Some even thought I gave up hoping for his future.
And then I realized something, in my not so graceful way. I needed to look at hope in a realistic way. In a way that worked for me as a mom to an amazing little boy with different abilities.
I hoped for his happiness.
I hoped for his health.
I hoped he would learn to communicate.
I hoped our family would be the family he needed.
I hoped I could be the best mom to him.
I hoped for strength and courage and patience.
And I hoped for peace from the worry that was always trying to consume me.