The first time I heard Cat Stevens' The Cat's in the Cradle my mom was playing it on a 45 rpm record on my dad's old console stereo. She was preparing for some presentation she was giving; I don't remember why or for whom but she was going to play that record as the intro to her talk. In 1974, when that song was released, that theme of change was definitely something my mom and our family was going through. She was working full time and going to college after years as a full time stay-at-home mom. Her older children were in high school and college and beginning to make their own paths. I was the baby, still in elementary school. When I hear that song as an adult, I remember how I felt listening to is as a child and think about how my own perspective has shifted through the years.
During this pandemic year, I've had plenty of time to reflect on my life, and life in general. For a long time I compartmentalized my life as "before autism" and "after autism" and identified the date of Alex's diagnosis as the time when our lives changed. I gave that moment in time much more power than it deserved. Although it was certainly a defining moment, I know now that a life is filled with a multitude of defining moments, and it is our reactions and choices that shape who we are.
Now I look at that time as one more experience that has built our family collectively and each of us individually. The adjustment was hard, years in the making. Many moments of Alex's childhood were very hard. Along the autism spectrum, Alex's version of autism brings him many challenges. Alex also has his own unique way of interacting with and viewing the world that make him a wonderful person.
I used to worry about all the ways I fell short as a mother for both Alex and Jessica. I spent a lot of years chasing the elusive magic wand that would make life easier for Alex. While I truly felt he didn't need to be "fixed," I did think that if I didn't find the "right" therapy or if I didn't help him learn to talk that would mean I had failed as a mother. When I look back now, it is much easier to see what we did well, and to enjoy and focus on the happy times of his childhood and our family life.
Since Alex's autism diagnosis, life has thrown many more challenges our way; many of them much harder than that diagnosis. Alex's autism is only one piece of a very colorful tapestry that continues to grow. Experiencing loss, illness, and death has definitely grown our perspective over time. Our own experience, hopefully, helps us grow empathy for the experiences of others. Life is messy - at times difficult and painful. It is also joyful and precious.
Facebook reminded me of this photo today. It was taken when Alex was maybe three years old. It's one of my very favorite photos of Alex and his dad. Now Alex is a grown man and John has salt and pepper hair and when I look at them I see all of our shared history.
It really is all those life experiences that make us who we are. Those seasons of change that we go through and the relationships we forge during those shared experiences. Alex is a grown man and I couldn't be more proud of him. He has a full life, thanks to the support of many but also thanks to his own efforts and attitude. He survived cancer, two solid years of multiple, arduous treatments. He's handling this pandemic better than I am. He's a good person with a happy, healthy life surrounded by people he loves and who love him. How lucky am I to be his mother.
