To my son, on Mother’s Day…

I’m not sure there are words that can capture how grateful I am for being your mom. For the record, being a mom of a child who learns differently, thinks differently, and will contribute to the world in an amazingly unique way is the cherry on the icing on the cake. Through this journey, I have been given patience, understanding, and unconditional love. It is not that I have taught these qualities to you, but rather, you have been my greatest teacher, showing me the true meaning of resilience, self-awareness, and joy. You have them in abundance.

As Mother’s Day approaches, my focus naturally shifts towards you and the incredible journey we have shared together. I realize that when I say “shifts towards you”, you understand that it’s no different than any other day because I’ve always been a very involved parent. In my gut, it was the only way. I’ve heard and read about labels that get hung around parents’ necks, ones like helicopter parents, blackhawk helicopter parents, lawnmower parents, snowplow parents… I never paid any attention to these. I was never interested in what other people thought of my parenting skills because I was focused on you. I believe that when parents have a child who thinks and learns differently, we develop a natural filtration process of what works and does not work for our child and our family. We tune out the noise of external influences and surround ourselves with the people that understand our “why”.

You know better than anyone that kids who learn differently very often face unique challenges in a world that is not always equipped to support their way of learning, thinking, and doing. I know you have been singled out in school, have not received lessons as you’ve needed to receive them, and been teased mercilessly by your peers. You have endured countless hours of additional tutoring and therapies which pulled you away from other activities, often the ones you enjoyed the most. You were introduced to the world and the people in it differently because they treated you differently. And through my learning-on-the-go mothering while navigating this journey together, you showed patience, understanding, trust, and the confidence to be yourself. You persisted, so I did too.

You should know that I haven’t traveled this road alone. In the early years, your dad and I were lucky to meet and get to know other families also navigating the world of learning differences and special education. Fifteen years later, this tight knit group of supportive, encouraging, and pick-up-the-phone-no-matter-what-time-of-day moms are still my besties. They were my “go to” people and still are. We were also fortunate to work with and learn from some amazing educators throughout the years (and some not so amazing). And I had my staple resources that I was glued to each week for a new article, webinar, or video release. The people and organizations that became my trusted resources, those that I would share with friends (and strangers) include Understood,  ADDitude, and Eye to Eye (David Flink’s book Thinking Differently helped me exhale a little bit). I would research, read and listen to as much as I could get my hands on, filter out what didn’t apply, and use what might work. 

What I learned is that there is tremendous power in listening. We listened to the experienced neurologist and doctors, educators, organizations, and other parents. We kept an open mind. We took it all in and then filtered a lot of it out. And then we listened to you. We listened to you.  At a young age, we took note of what you were asking to do and watched where you found your joy. We observed where you got excited to spend your time and what seemed to make the clock go by really fast. You were born a builder. You imagined, created, and built with everything that you could get your hands on. When we went to the park, you didn’t jump on the swings, you went to the surrounding area to find sticks and tree limbs and built incredible life-size forts. When we ate breakfast, you made vehicles out of fruit (and then ate them). You moved on to wooden blocks, Tinker Toys, Zoob building sets, unbelievable Lego free build, and then mastered the art of welding. We have masterpiece creations all around the house. Around the time of middle school, you dove into the world of Minecraft and, from there, discovered a gaming world that I can’t conceive of because you are way ahead of me in that field (and video games make me dizzy). My smile was massive when I picked you up last week from your freshman year at college where you asked for help, advocated, and worked your tail off pursuing a major in Game Design. Your entire life, you not only told us what you loved to do, but you would show us through your actions. I now know with certainty that the person who can guide you, advise you, and teach you best about your child is….your child. 

I know that we have shared with you that you are the reason we created GAB-on!. We used it simply for our family for a few years and then, inspired by the strength of our relationship, the confidence you developed, and your advocacy in and out of school, we built it for all unique learners and their families in hopes that they experience the same life-changing impact. You’ve often said that you are open to sharing your story if it can help others feel better about themselves and you are doing just that through this work.

Thank you for sharing your journey with me, confiding in me (the good and the hard), telling and showing me the path you want to venture forth into, trusting in me, and always knowing that I had your back over the bumps and the hurdles because we are always in it together. I love this time of year when we celebrate being a mom because I get to celebrate us. 

Love,  Mom