Lord, do I complain. I throw myself pity parties. I wish life was a bit different for all of us. I’m not a saint.
But then, there are moments when he’s crawled into my bed and wrapped his arm around my neck and is twirling my hair and muttering, “Mom. Mom. Mom”.
And I know that I’m so blessed.
I’m so lucky to watch this pure soul blossom and grow. And to be a part of his life.
Every Mom thinks that.
But I’m not sure every Mom can beat the wonderment that comes along with the growth when your child has a disability.
We can cheer over the silliest things like allowing syrup on his waffles for the first time or surviving a big weekly grocery shopping trip without a single whine or even just the facial expressions that didn’t exist before.
Every day he’s hit with challenges that none of us can understand and he still continues to persevere and laugh and smile and flap with joy. He’s mastered the art of finding happiness every single day in life’s littlest moments.
And he’s a teacher. He may think he is playing the role of student. But he’s teaching. He’s teaching others how to open their minds and their hearts. He’s teaching us empathy and patience- sometimes qualities we didn’t even realize we had in the abundance we do. He’s made me a better and stronger person.
He’s amazing. He changes my life every day. And he reminds me to find the blessings even on the hard days. I’m one lucky Mama.