When I Wasn't Looking

Not everything is about autism.

So, my oldest son, Nathan?  He weighed 3 pounds when we brought him home from the hospital.  Yeah, he was early..by about six weeks.  He spent some time in the NICU (neontal ICU) and had an IV and breathing tubes and all that. The thing was, he kept pulling the breathing tubes out.  Over and over.  Finally the doctor said, Fine...let's see how he does without them.  And he breathed.  On his own.  Such a determined little spirit in such a tiny body.

He thrived.  When he was a toddler he was a sturdy little boy, with giant blue eyes and cute little cheeks.  Everywhere I went, women would flock around him and say, "Hello cutie" or "Hello handsome" and make a big deal about him.  You love all of your children, as a mother.  The first is a little different, just because that one is your first...the guinea pig, the trial by fire.

So the other day Nathan comes to me and he says,  Mom, I need some deoderant.

What??? You don't need any deoderant! I screech in my head.  You're like, three!!

But no. He isn't three.  He's eleven, and he'll be twelve in October.  Girls are already sending their friends to him, asking if he likes so and so, he's already starting to hang with his friends in the neighborhood on the weekends more than he's spending time at home.  When I wasn't looking, he grew up a little, and it's only going to go by faster and faster until one day, he'll be calling me:  Mom, I'm coming over this weekend.  I want you to meet someone.  God help me.

But you know what?  I love it.  It IS bittersweet, watching this baby turn into a young man and knowing that I will never have that time back.  But, it would be futile for me to try to preserve those babyish tendencies in him.  It would do more harm than good for me to try and keep him tethered close to me, clinging to the last vestiges of this little boy when this brilliant young man is ready to emerge.  I love watching him grow up.  I love watching the person he is going to become.

But, I'll tell you.  At night, when he's asleep...I tiptoe into his room.  I watch the rise and fall of his chest to make sure he's breathing,  for crying out loud. I smooth back his hair and sometimes, if he's very, very asleep, I give him a kiss.  And I whisper, Mommy loves you.  And if I'm very, very lucky, sometimes, in a sleepy voice, that sounds an awful lot like the little boy he is leaving behind, he will whisper back, "I love you too, mama."