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The years go by so fast. This little one has stayed my baby longer.
She has needed more. More late nights, more diaper changing, more
soothing, more rocking, more cuddles, more medicine, more doctors
visits, more time, just more time to grow up. It has been my pleasure
and honor to give it to her. Sometimes I feel like I have been
initiated into a club that I never wanted to join, the sacred club of
mother’s of children who need much more.
Last year before her birthday I grieved. Four sounded so big. I knew
that she was old enough that people would notice that something wasn’t
quite right when they met her. I felt like more was expected of her
that she couldn’t meet. I thought that at 3 years old that people might
just think she was being shy, just some of the baby in her still
showing, but at 4 the jig was up, people would know now that she wasn’t
like all the rest of the kids. I feared the second looks, the ones
where I can tell they are watching her, trying to figure her out, then
the sympathetic looks at me. I hate the fake smile I put on pretending
not to know what they were just thinking. What else can I do, let tears
stream down my face while I scream out all of our problems. Life was so
unfair to her. As I write that, I am immediately reminded of how fair
life was to Jesus, what a miraculous gift came from Him to this world
through his suffering.
The days leading up to this birthday have been full of joy. Not only
have I learned more, found more peace in my hope, but Sophie has been
doing so well. Every day she seems better. Every day she does something
new, or something that she hasn’t done since autism took root. All the
milestones that she did not hit, I see her grow closer towards, and so
quickly! She open her first present actually tugging on the paper and
pulling it off to discover what was inside. I am finally getting to
call the grandparents with the “guess what Sophie did today”
announcements. Five is going to be a very good year.
