Embracing Change

When Em turned two, I said, “I’d give a limb to have her ask for something.”

When Em was three, I said, “If only she could tell me what was wrong.”

When Em was four, I said,  “If only she was able to understand.”

When Em was five, I said, “If only she would sleep through the night.”

When Em was six, I said, “If only she would learn to use the bathroom during the night too.”

When Em was seven, I said, “If only I understood what she was thinking.”

When Em was eight, I said, “I just want her to be safe.”

When Em was nine, I said, “I want her to have choices in her life.”

When Em was ten, I said, “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

When Em turned eleven, I said, “Thank you.  Just thank you.”

Things continue to change.  We adjust.  I continue to change and my life gets bigger and fuller.  Em continues to change and her life gets bigger and fuller.  I didn’t fully appreciate or understand this when Em was first diagnosed, but I do now.

Everything changes.  I’m learning to embrace it.

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17 responses to “Embracing Change

  1. Great photo! A few years ago I added to Benjamin Franklin’s list of life certainties, change, because just like death and taxes, you can most certainly count on change. 🙂

  2. Ain’t loving wonderful.

  3. Love the pic!! We have so much to be grateful for! 🙂

  4. yes! I do regret not “just being” with my daughter age 3-4. But at least I am getting there now, She is teaching me more than I am teacher her.

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  6. I just almost can’t believe Emma’s big blue eyes!

    You know what this sort of reminds me of…is that in my apartment, my roommate and I made a pact one year that we would no longer complain about the weather. At all. Because we realized that we were just always rejecting something we thought we’d wanted. In January we were always wishing it was August. In August we were always saying we’d give anything for it to be January. (And this is a small place in a badly-maintained building with no AC and inconsistent heat, so January and August both have real consequences.) You can *always* think of something you don’t have that you wish you did, but that’s no real way to enjoy life.

    • Big blue eyes to go along with those big round cheeks of hers!

      “You can *always* think of something you don’t have that you wish you did, but that’s no real way to enjoy life.” Yes! Exactly.

  7. This has to be one of my favorite posts you’ve ever written, and I’ve gone back to read a lot of your past posts when I first discovered your blog.

    Thank you. Just thank you.

  8. Reblogged this on autism 299 and commented:
    I really needed to read this today. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering the important stuff, like what to be thankful for. Sometimes I forget that we aren’t wired the same, and even when I’m not autistic but not “neurotypical”, I still make assumptions.

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