Friday, February 7, 2014

this is life

This is my son Parker. 

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He has 100 different smiles, all guaranteed to light up the room.  He's a mama's boy, a fact that makes me glow with pride. And each time he chooses only me to soothe him, I feel like I just won a prize. 

We love slow dancing in the kitchen while the rest of the word falls away. Sometimes I think every love song was written just for me and him.Those are the moments I know that I've loved him not just all his life, but all mine too. He is my wildest dream come true.

Parker reminds me it's okay to get dirty while you're having fun. He makes me not mind a cluttered house or floor covered with toys. I pick playing with him versus cleaning. A clean house I'll forget tomorrow, but playing with him I'll still remember deep in my bones in a hundred years. Long after he falls asleep at night I stumble over a forgotten toy on the floor, and smile as I think of him. He reminds me it's better to live an honest, painful, beautiful life than someone elses fairy tale. He makes me want to live a beautiful story about a boy with endless blue eyes and possibilities and a Mom that loves so big that it sometimes hurts. 

Parker has huge crystal-blue pool eyes that I like to swim in. Flecks of gold pull me in and let me look directly into his bright soul. I stare and memorize him. Please God- I whisper, Let me remember my 2-year old Parker. Freeze this moment for eternity and let me remember everything. The feel of his chubby rectangular feet. His soft, smooth baby fine hair a million different shades of gold. The sight of him playing outside in the back yard doing his funny little run. He makes me stop at least once a day and say, Wow, God. Really? Are you sure it's okay? He's really mine? And I still really can't believe that my heart made his heart, and because of that it's like we are always together. 

I remember nursing him. Our eyes locked on each other and I didn't know where he ended and I began. We were one. And then that eye contact slowly drifted away. I had to get bigger and louder to pull him out from inside his head. And I knew what to look for and I found it, and I knew what it was called.

Today Parker had his diagnostic evaluation today for autism. Unlike Parker's older brother Greyson's diagnosis appointment not yet two years ago- the doctor wouldn't tell me on the spot. I practically begged- If I know- I assume you know. Please don't make me neurotically check the mail every day wondering if this is the day I will open an envelope and fall to my knees. I need to hear the words said out loud. My mother's heart needs to hear it so I can move on.

And although she was kind and a mother, unfortunately she was also not a rule breaker. He seems to have behaviors and characteristics in line with a spectrum disorder, she finally gave me when pressed. We still need to compile all the data first. But he's got a lot of wonderful traits too. I know that is their band aid. I heard it with Greyson so many times- He's got so many great traits, and I mistakenly took that as not autistic. Now I know it must be because they want something positive to say and they can't say the thing that most parents want to hear. They want to remind me this beautiful bright shining light is a gift. I already know that, deeply and with even more determined conviction on imperfect gut wrenching days like today. 

I know the Doctor's report will call my pot black, and it will leave my heart aching a little. And I also know that today, and even on the day we get the damn letter, Parker is still the same sweet soul whose warm wrinkled body was placed against my bare chest and into my heart almost three years ago. 

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Pure sweet love. He is a gift. The same sweet, happy, spirited boy that captures my heart daily.  If it was all perfect and shiny and good- how would we know because we had nothing to compare it to? The past almost three years with my sweet Doodle have been a love story. Not the kind you read about in fairy tales, but the real kind of love. It's messy, exhausting, painful complicated and most importantly so bright and so beautiful that it sometimes hurts my eyes. This is life, and I'll take it all.



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  1. Sobbing so hard reading this, not with sadness but with love. Every child deserves a mother who loves as deeply, as completely as this, as you. Every child is a blessing and every child has gifts to offer. Thank you so much for your words, for sharing your story and your boys. The world is a better place for having all of you in it. With love. Always x

  2. This post is so filled with love...reading it, it almost hurts in my heart, such a strong love... You are the best mom your boys could have!!! Really, you are amazing, and so are you boys. And-no matter what the doctors might say: this boy is so full of life!!! love and thanks for shareing your heart with us. It`s always a blessing to read here!

  3. Tears pouring down my face. So sweet and beautiful.


  4. On Dec. 12, my sweet son was diagnosed as well. I found your blog months before that, because even though I didn't hear the words 'Your son has autism' until December, I knew in my heart almost a year before that. You, however, have been through this before. So I can't tell you anything you haven't felt already, and I can't assume to know how you'll feel about having two precious loves on the spectrum. All I know is that every morning, I wake up and put one foot in front of the other. I love my sweet boy, who turns three in March, with all my heart and every day I am his student. Sending love and support your way today and when the letter arrives.

  5. I recently found your blog and keep coming back because your posts are so moving. I am a mother of three children under four years old and I'm often overwhelmed by parenthood both good and bad. Just wanted you to know you have another follower who thinks you are a great mother and writer!

  6. No words...just love and support. The evaluation days are pretty tough. Hugs to you.

  7. Wow, that was deep and beautiful. Your writing is so moving. I can really feel when i read your blog and that is what brings me back. That and your gorgeous pictures. Evaluation days are rough. Hang in there. XOXO Kristen at onein1hundred.blogspot

  8. thank you so much for writing this. you're amazing and your boys are amazing.

  9. Sending hugs and support for you today.

  10. Thank you for sharing, you do it beautifully and it has helped me process my feelings about my little guy, who is similar to your Parker in many ways (including those chubby rectangular feet!). I forget what link i followed that led me to your blog but I have been reading a couple weeks and thought today was a good day to say Hi from Canada. Thinking of you as you wait for that envelope in the mail...

  11. You are so very lovely. I've been reading your words for about a year, I think, and never comment, but you should know there's another reader out there who you encourage and inspire and delight. - Danielle in Austin, TX

  12. Wow! This may be the most beautiful post I have read! The love shines through...and the pictures of Parker at the top are amazing. He is precious.
    Sending love and hugs to all of you,

  13. Parker is beautiful, and you are beautiful. If that day does come and you fall on your knees, know that many of us have been there before you and we will be there for you. I am sending hugs, superhuman strength, and chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

  14. Absolutely beautiful. Your words, your pictures, your heart. Love reading what your write and seeing the pictures you post.

  15. Friend, so much love it is spilling down my cheeks. You love your boys like I love mine - such profound depth. And this? Good grief, to say I love this line is just showing my ignorance of a better descriptor "Those are the moments I know that I've loved him not just all his life, but all mine too. He is my wildest dream come true" You speak to my heart. I am holding space for you when the letter comes, my friend.
    So much love to you, sweet Momma. xoxoxo

  16. Thank you so much for sharing this. My son was diagnosed on December 16th, and I too knew well before that. It's been a very painful journey, but you manage to capture the beauty of it all. Since I read your post, I've been saying two lines you wrote over and over in my head as a mantra of sorts in challenging moments. "He reminds me it's better to live an honest, painful, beautiful life than someone else's fairy tale. He makes me want to live a beautiful story about a boy with endless blue eyes and possibilities and a mom that loves so big that it sometimes hurts." Thank you so much for sharing.