I've had lots of ideas for posts over the last few weeks, but in my typical single mama speed (slow, if you're wondering), I haven't written any of them down. But I wanted to write something about Mother's Day, before the moment passed.
I realized my journey as a mother would be far from typical long before my son was diagnosed with autism. I've been doing it all on my own since my son was an infant, and in some ways, I've never known it any other way. Most of the time, I don't mind. It's our normal. I don't have luxury of having someone else put my son to bed, or make his lunch, or cook dinner. I don't have anyone to talk to about the worries that weigh heavily on my mind every day, about my son's struggles, his future.. Mostly, I'm just used to it. I don't think about it. I just get up every day and do what needs to be done. But there are days when the resentment bubbles up, when the sight of a man pushing a stroller triggers a pang of heartache, or when I see a bunch of kids playing together in someone's front yard... well, you get the picture. My experience isn't typical, and my son's isn't either.