Reflections of a mama to a wonderful boy, who has a rare genetic syndrome, near his birthday.
Every year, I forget that Zach’s birthday isn’t only celebratory for me. It can also be a trigger for parts of grief of the things that are not yet and may never be. It’s a remembrance of both the gift of the sweet season where we had no idea that he was different from any other kid and the gift of finding out that, in fact, he is quite different. In big and small ways, our little joy-bringer has brought so much to our lives and to those around him. His joy is contagious, his energy seemingly endless, his passion fierce, his love of music infectious, his warmth and friendliness welcoming. And he also needs a lot of support, interpretation, advocacy, patience, understanding, brainstorming with teachers, redirecting and so on.
As I’ve learned many times before, Joy and Grief often accompany each other; the two are not mutually exclusive. But that can make it hard for me to identify what exactly it is that I’m feeling, so I can process it. All of it. Without shutting down because the combination can just feel like too much.
And that’s okay. His wins are my wins, his challenges are my opportunities to partner with my husband and cry out for help to my Creator. I don’t have to have any certain feelings, none of them are bad. But grieving who I thought he might be or where he might be in his life at this point are feelings I’m allowed to have as part of my processing and continual acceptance with my whole heart.
God has invited us on a unique journey, parenting, loving, caring for and seeing the world and other people through the gift of this boy in our lives.
And with all the feelings that can swell to “too big” for me to know what to do with, from time to time, I can honestly say I wouldn’t change who he is. I just pray that God will continue to grow and change me and equip me for this calling to be Zach’s mama and love him well.
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