I am a mom with a son who may well have a disability. At best, he will have to work harder to do things with his body that others do with ease. At worst, he may not be able to do those things in a typical way or perhaps not at all.
I'm not going to lie, I hate 'almost' everything about this. Rightfully or fearfully, I think us mothers don't want our kids to struggle, to feel pain, to experience grief, loss or heartache. We want ease for our kids. Or at least we think we want that for them.
Then, quietly, behind my own grief and fear, I remember that vulnerability (perhaps pain, grief and struggle too) are necessary conditions for growth.
What would life be if it were only the mountain tops? If you never felt the burn of the ascent? How could you appreciate the highs without the experience of the lows.
It's not that I think we need to make meaning or see purpose in every hard thing we face, but, what if, the challenges, stretches and pain were seen as an invitation? An invitation to a place even closer to the version of ourselves that we are meant to be.
Part of the fear I have is selfish really. If he never struggles, I get to avoid the pain too.
Instead, I want to commit to holding space for it all. Not only will I be there to celebrate all the wins, but I will help find courage when it is needed, shed tears together when the pain of the loss is all too much. I will try to remember on the darkest of days, that just like all of my pain and heartache always moves eventually, his will too. He will adapt. We all will adapt. We don't always have a choice what gets handed to us, but we always have a choice to show up, even when we are afraid, with out whole hearts. We don't need to have certainty about what the future holds, if we have confidence that whatever it is, we can handle it.
As a wise woman once told me, "Chelsea, life is what you make it!" and one thing I know for sure is that I always land on my feet!
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