To my son,

You came into this world in your own time, disrupting expectations and creating opportunities for faith. As quickly as you arrived, you were gone; born prematurely, in a facility unequipped for your care, we were separated so that you could thrive. No one placed you in my arms, instead our first hello was first a goodbye.

I waited eagerly that first morning, anxious to acknowledge the tiny spirit who had previously inspired joy and curiosity as my body changed form to accommodate your enthusiastic movements. Then, in our first conversation, I found myself speaking in a language weighted by silence. I could not thread together the volumes that seemed to sustain the seconds between us.

It is a humbling love, fiercely vulnerable, that tethers a mother and child. Words seemed trite and inadequate in those first moments, instead I marveled at the miracle of your tiny fingers and wise gaze. I looked past the wires and machinery that signaled weakness seeing only beauty and strength.

Then, I let go; trusting that you would be okay and recognizing the limits of my control. Today I asked the same of you.

On the eve of your birthday you begged me to dismiss you from school, a place sometimes burdened with unkindness and discomfort. I struggled against wanting to shelter you from your fears and choosing a path that would honor my faith in your strength. Rather than hide you from harm, I asked you to let go and trust in the possibility of kindness.

This is my birthday wish for you:

I hope you begin always with faith in possibility. In some of our most challenging hours we find the source of our strength is greater than the cause of our worries. In moments outside our control there is an opportunity to let go of fear or hold tightly to doubt; it is always better to embrace possibility than hide in the shadows of insecurities. When calculating risk, count first your accomplishments and multiply them by your willingness to engage risk. Failure and harm are inevitable but joy and accomplishment are impossible without first risking both.

Love, Mom

There is an image that lingered in my mind’s eye last night, long after the day’s sun and gentle breeze carried me off to sleep. It is of my son in the noisy, bustling chaos of the zoo cocooned tightly, patiently observing the flow of traffic snaking around him. In the instant he settled into a ball a stranger’s hand gently squeezed my arm in a moment’s unspoken connection. I turned and saw genuine understanding reflected in her smile as we watched my son stationed sentry, guarding his space in the rhythm of families pulsing around him in every direction.

Over the years I have nurtured my son’s unique sense of self while endeavoring to foster understanding of the world around him; directing his gaze both inward and outward. Yesterday, just far enough outside the influence of motherly prompts – nonverbal or whispered instructions to stand or seek a bench, he seemed to instead inform my gaze creating a picture of wellness in a world unencumbered by his individuality. His very posture answered my uncertainties, reassuring my doubts and begging space. There was a quiet confidence that underscored his contentment; completely at ease in his indifference to difference.

I tried to rectify the memory of my son’s younger self with the image of the young man whose shoulders now stretch above my own. He is a harmonious balance of gentle power; still child and not yet man but fortified with a sense of self and tempered by a curious eagerness to engage with his world. This was the gift of sight that lingered in my mind, a little boy and young man making space in the world for self and a kind stranger weighing me in a silent reassurance, redirecting my expectations with a greater sense of appreciation.