My daughter turned 18 this past week. I think it’s funny that they let babies become 18-year-olds now. But there she is – my infant princess is an “adult”. It’s all rather ridiculous.
If Olivia is a baby, then her brother Lucas is a newborn. Born nearly three years after his sister, he’s been the runt of the litter since day one. They’re both babies.
In my head, I still see the two of them toddling around the house. I can still hear her shout his name as he darts through the living room, toys strewn about. The Wiggles blare in the background. The cats are still alive. Gas is $2.25.
The paradox of time kicks in, and I realize that was both a hundred years ago and yesterday. I miss it.
For my newly minted adult daughter, time’s passage is easy to spot. She drives. She works. She has an entire adult life now. Her friends no longer look like babies. To quote Green Day, I guess this is growing up.
When it comes to baby Lucas, the signs are much harder to spot. With the exception of the scattered Fred Flintstone stubble around his face, he’s still my little man.
Well, “little man” might be overstepping. My non-verbal son is becoming a giant man. When he jumps into his bed, I feel the creek of the house’s foundation. Hand-me-down clothes are slowly starting to flow in the opposite direction. When he’s in shoes and I’m in barefeet, I look up to him like Willie Wonka on payday.
Sure, his personality clouds the Baby Huey growth spurt in recent years. Lucas and I still watch old episodes of Sesame Street, jam out to Raffi in the car, and wrestle around like it’s 2015. We read bedtime stories and go for walks around the park. In many ways, he hasn’t grown at all.
It’s usually when I look back on the pictures from all these things that I see the truth. He’s not a baby. Just like his sister, Lucas is growing up. The way he sees the world may cloud that, at times. Yet still, time waits for no man – even my not-so-little one.
The truth is, both my kids are getting older. For my daughter, that realization comes with letting go. She’ll be heading to college soon and, with that, starting her journey to adulthood. It’s a tale as old as time.
Lucas isn’t so open and shut. For the record, at 15, he still has some time to go. But if 15 years can go by in the blink of an eye, three years ain’t nothin’.
I may need to let go as my daughter gets older. But it’s not about letting go when it comes to my boy. It’s about gripping on, filling out paperwork, and determining what exactly his life plan is.
And, since we’re all friends here, let’s be honest. It’s one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to prepare for.
That version of me from the messy toddler living room dealt with this exact situation on a smaller scale. Back then, I was figuring out his schooling and learning needs. The fear of the unknown was very real. I battered myself over the worry that I was making the wrong decisions.
Giving him a communication device, signing him up for specialized schooling, and agreeing to therapies in our house all eroded at me from the inside. I had no clue what was coming, but I knew I had to figure it out for Lucas.
Could I fail? Sure. Was I making the best choices I could with him in mind? Absolutely.
But even then, I knew that was simply the beginner level. It was the opening salvo, first act, World 1:1 on Mario – we were just getting started. The real final boss would be….well, now.
We’re here. This is the time that scared me then, scares me now, and made my own eventual death seem like a two-fold tragedy in my mind. This is the moment where the decisions start to affect his entire life.
It’s scary when you say it like that. Hell, it’s scary any way you say it.
In that fear, though, there are things that help alleviate some of this heavy concern. It’s the thought process that keeps me on track.
This may be the advanced level of special needs parenting, but I’m an advanced parent. I’ve had over a decade of experience as Lucas’s dad. I’ve learned about him, how his autism affects him, and made positive decisions for him every single day.
Back then, the choices before us may not have been as pressing as lifeplan layouts, but they were major. Determining schooling for a child with almost no communication skills was more than daunting. It was, on paper, next-to-impossible.
However, I did it. Not only that, but we crushed it. Lucas may not have reached some imaginary milestones or learned skills I thought were completely necessary, but he became the best version of himself that he can be.
I helped make that happen. I did it all during a time when I knew next-to-nothing about autism or how it would affect him. I was still living in a haze of denial. I was still questioning all the decisions I made for him. We had far more miscommunication than not. The possibility of failure was much higher than it is today.
Yet, I was able to make the right choices then.
Just imagine how I will do now.
Think about it. I have experience, knowledge, and a somewhat laid out idea in my brain. Even better? I have the hindsight that my previous determinations, even those wrapped around fear and inexperience, helped my son. They helped because I always had his best interests at heart.
And I know I have that now.
Is all of this proof that I will never mess up? Is it a guarantee that everything will be fine? No. Of course not.
But is it enough to make me feel confident that we will only make great choices? Uh…still no.
Does it tell me to trust myself and lead with my heart? It does. Whatever tomorrow brings, it will bring. We’ll be OK, no matter what. We always have been. We always will be.
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