The Minor Setbacks

There are many moments in this journey that take us down. Though our circle of grief tends to grow larger as the time passes, there will always be occasions where time stands still and you see the life you are living through a stranger's lens, a stranger who has not accepted this life, a stranger who doesn't understand this life. It could be a time when a similar-aged child says hello and it throws you backward for just a second because you remember that your child should be speaking. Inside, you have not only accepted this fact, but embrace it because you know your child. You know his mannerisms, his facial expressions and most of the time, even without verbal language, you know what he needs. In this moment, that does not matter. In this moment, it is wildly unbelievable, the life you are living. Flashbacks of the life you envisioned before your child's birth fill your mind. It usually only lasts a few seconds and then you bounce back into reality.

As time goes by, these moments happen less, but you will continue to feel them for the rest of your life. The big milestones will hurt a little more. Watching a friend's child get their license or leave home. But it's the smaller ones that happen more often. A child eating on their own, a baby holding their own bottle, listening to a friend mow through her feelings of having to give her child medication  like tylenol for the first time when your child takes medication daily that could sedate you. You remember that her first time mom issues are no less than yours, but it reminds you how vastly different your life really is. Sometimes it's subtle like seeing an insurance commercial and the narrator in the background tells you to cuddle your kids while they are babies, because soon they will be walking and off to college. Sometimes it's more obvious like when you listen to a friend ask for advice from another mom, yet never asks you, as if there is no way you would experience "normal" mom issues.

You struggle between knowing your child has so much potential, but you are still in the dark, not knowing what the future holds and what they will be capable of as they age. So you learn to be "okay" with where life stands. You know that if progress stopped, if in this moment he learned nothing more, you will love him just the same. Yet you struggle with the yearning for him to be able to learn so much more. You are eternally grateful with what he has attained and how far life has brought you, but never stop dreaming of what could have been. All of these thoughts flash through your brain in these few seconds. And once they enter, they exit.

And it is okay to feel sad during these moments. It is okay to cry, to excuse yourself, to scream in a pillow, to sit in your dark closet and take deep breaths.

It doesn't mean you don't love your life or you love your kid any less. In fact, the most successful way to get through these moments is to actually feel them. Just don't make them bigger than they are.