The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

My boy called me the other day.

Hi Mom.

That voices makes me melt inside and my heart swell with love.  Just a few weeks away from his 20th birthday. I haven't seen him in 3 months. I haven't heard that voice in 3 months.  We text often but this time he called.

I love that boy more than he will ever know.

From the first time I felt his tiny body move inside my belly, night after night when I rocked him for hours, through the screaming, the fighting, the years of counseling, right up until the day he left, my heart has never wavered.

It is a love like no other and he is the hardest thing I've ever done.

My son has Asperger's Syndrome. He is on the autistic spectrum. He has sensory dysfunction, attention deficit, and learning disabilities.

For years I was told that he was a bad kid and I was a bad mom. I might have been a bad mom, definitely a new mom, a scared mom, an insecure mom. But I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my beautiful boy was not born bad.

I defended him from those who said mean things about him. I fought with the school system to get him help. I drove him to counseling.  I committed him to the mental health unit to be evaluated.  I called the police on him when he was violent.

And I cried. Day after day I cried. The only thing I did more often than cry was pray. More than anything I want my boy to be safe and happy.  I don't know what that looks like for him but it is my daily pray.

I fought for my boy, for days, weeks, months and years. Yet I was the one that took all his rage and frustration.  I was his bad guy and it was all my fault.

Not only did I cry and pray, but I questioned every choice I made, every step of my parenting journey. Was it my fault? Did I do it wrong? Is he this way because I did something while I was pregnant?  Or because I didn't do something?  Did I not love him enough? Did I not give him enough? It's bad enough that my first born must suffer but even worse that he blames me for his suffering. I wasn't a good enough mom to deserve his love. The days when I held him as he raged and cried,  I got no thanks, no appreciation.

I would have done more if I could.

Three months since he went away to school. Three months since I've seen him.
Three months since I've heard his voice.

My boy brought me to tears with just a few simple words.  How are you? he says. And then later, when I tell him I'll send money he says thank you.

Simple words but I'm not sure my son has ever before, in 20 years, asked me how I was.

He had to leave me before I stopped being the bad guy.


The hardest thing I've ever done....

...carrying him.

...birthing him.

...rocking him.

...fighting for him.

....fighting with him.

...advocating for him.

...medicating him.

...letting him go.

The only thing that came easy was loving him.