I wish I could hit the rewind button. Not because I want another child, but because I long for a chance to relive those early days with my son. It’s a tough reality for parents like me, grappling with the complexities of autism while feeling a mix of nostalgia and regret. But I know dwelling on it won’t change a thing, and it wouldn’t be fair to overlook his achievements or the incredible person he is.
I find myself yearning for the blissful ignorance of babyhood. There was a time when I thought the sleepless nights were just a phase, that potty training would be around the corner, and I wouldn’t be waking up to soggy sheets before my morning coffee—or my mid-morning, lunchtime, and afternoon coffee for that matter! I wish for my child to be on the same playing field as his peers. Sometimes, I forget that kids his age engage in activities he either can’t or won’t participate in. It’s a double-edged sword: it’s heartwarming when he still calls me “Mommy” and wants to hold my hand, but it’s disheartening when I see other kids playing games while he’s perfectly content with his old Thomas the Tank Engine trains.
I don’t want to be familiar with the overwhelming alphabet soup of acronyms: ASD, ADD, SPD, IEP, etc. I just want to buy him Alphabits cereal and hear him mimic the sounds I lovingly made when he was in his high chair—not just stare vacantly or toss them at the dog. (Let’s be real; he’d probably still throw them at the dog anyway. That pup kept our kitchen floor spotless, though!) I don’t want to experience the frustration of him starting to speak only to lose those words again.
The labels we use to define functioning levels often feel arbitrary and subjective. Sure, my son can identify musical notes and reproduce them on the piano, yet he struggles with tying his shoes. So, where does he fit? It’s a conundrum. While some people might recoil at the idea of labels, we sometimes need descriptive words to navigate this world. Perhaps one day someone will come up with a more palatable label that doesn’t feel so confining. (“Same Great Autism Taste. Now with Less Stimming!”)
I wish I didn’t appear to be a helicopter parent, scoping out new environments for potential safety hazards before we visit. I’d love to simply show up at a birthday party or sports practice like other parents do. Did you know some parents get to drop their kids off and then return later? I KNOW! Incredible, right? I dream of just relaxing at the beach instead of chasing my son as he makes a beeline for the ocean. Some folks even bring books! How fascinating.
It’s okay for me to yearn for a do-over. I can feel both sadness for wanting to revisit those moments and gratitude for the lessons learned along the way. I often think back to those early days of blissful ignorance, wishing I could savor them a little longer. Maybe I’d have been a more relaxed parent instead of stressing over diaper brands and other trivial matters. Perhaps I would have hugged him tighter or sung him just one more verse of “Baa Baa Black Sheep” while he drifted off in my arms. If only I’d known how pivotal Ore Ida fries would become in our lives!
If you’re navigating similar waters, you can find excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination at Resolve. For those considering self insemination, Make a Mom offers valuable insights. You can also explore this post for more information.
In conclusion, while I may desire a do-over, I embrace the journey we’re on. I acknowledge my feelings and the complexities of parenting, knowing that each moment has shaped our unique story.