Parenthood changed me, as it should have done. When Jacob was born nearly eight years ago, I remember feeling calm and cool after his delivery. I felt like I slid into motherhood with ease, as if I had always been a mom only now I had the baby to prove it. I'm not pretending I knew it all, because I definitely didn't. I had my own ideas about how things should go and I felt pretty confident that if I screwed up along the way, it wasn't going to make or break whether or not Jake would end up in prison vs. being a brain surgeon. I'd make a lot of decisions in parenting along the way that I knew my family may not have agreed with. I'd usually stick to my guns (I am a stubborn Taurus after all), but I had that guilty-pre-teen-desperate-to-please feeling that I've disappointed someone and gone against their wishes. If I made a decision on my own, I'd always feel guilty when I told people about it because I probably should have run it by them first.
It's a terrible feeling because it holds you back from enjoying your successes as a parent. It's awfully difficult to revel in your family's accomplishments when you're lacking the confidence that you were responsible enough to make the right decisions for your child. When you're a first-time parent, you realize that you're not so special after all. Because there are a million moms who came before you and they've all 'been there, done that'. Then one day two heartbeats on an ultrasound screen threw everything out of balance.
Twins were new territory in our immediate circle of family and friends. Jonathan and I were sick with fear. The advice didn't roll in the same way it had when we were expecting Jake. I think it was as scary for them as it was for us. Jake had just turned one year old the week we found out we were expecting, which meant there would only be a 19 month difference between him and his new siblings.
Owen and Will came into the world and our lives were turned upside down. There is nothing like the joy you feel when you hold three lives in your arms at once. Lives that you know you brought into the world and now had to shape and mold them into the adults that they would become. Now we knew that we no longer had our parents to look to, because we had already surpassed their own experience. It didn't change the fact that the advice would continue to pour in, but we now understood that we were the new authority on life with three under two. And when life never seemed to level out and get easier because of the odd, little, challenging quirks that the twins exhibited, life got a little scarier each day. Because now no one had the answers.
Autism officially entered our lives on June 7th and then again June 14th, 2005. Not only was this new territory, it was no man's land. Scary quicksand territory. Never before had our parenting skills been put to the test as it was in the latter half of 2005. Not just our skills, but our belief in ourselves as parents. In our faith that we could do this. In our tenacity to see our goals through. What a year it was; researching autism and making decisions to do whatever we could to get the twins on a path which would hopefully enable them to lead successful lives, despite this diagnosis.
We were at a fork in the road. The way we saw it, we had two options. Take the road that was safe and comfortable that began and ended right where we were, or take the road whose destination was unknown. We could plod along with the boys on waiting lists for therapy, struggle with their challenging behaviours on our own and just learn to cope with our situation and accept that our boys' future would never be as great as we had prayed for them. OR we could look for better and work for more. Find a way to be a success story. Make a move outside of our comfort zone and remember that our boys' best interest always came first. We turned to our support system for advice and got a million different kinds of feedback. We found that it wasn't long before we knew that we were the only ones who could make the call.
Now here we are. The other side of the country. The twins are in year four of ABA therapy and about to enter the school system. Jacob is now a very happy and well-balanced (almost) eight year old who has finally settled into his life as a Calgarian. Jonathan and I have changed. Moving out here and putting miles in between us and our support system forced us to rely only on ourselves when it came to determining what direction to go with the boys. The decisions are getting tougher and it often feels that we're on our own island because we are so far beyond where we once were and even if we wanted advice, it would be impossible to bring everyone up to speed to have an informed opinion.
I've grown up a lot this year. Whether it's evident to anyone else or not, I know that I have now truly earned the title of mom. I finally feel like I'm a grown-up. I'll do whatever it takes for my kids to have the best opportunities available and I don't need to run it by anyone outside of us. If I hear that someone disagrees with me, I no longer feel the guilt that I may have disappointed them. Sometimes my decisions may even hurt the feelings of some, but I have learned to put the kids first and not let myself dwell on anyone else. I still struggle with finding the balance between advocating for your children and keeping the peace. I'm a grown up who is still learning.
Yet again I'm learning the lesson that autism has been a gift to me in as many ways that it has been a struggle. Without it, I may have forever been a mom relying on her own parents to guide her through. I feel good about what I've accomplished for my boys and I will continue on.
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