soccer mom in mourning

It was last Tuesday that I finally made the trek to our local elementary school to watch superman play soccer with eight other under-fives. Seriously, the socks and the shin guards make the uniform. It could not possibly get any cuter than that.

I had monchichi with me and we alternated between him running away and me chasing after him and playing with the water cooler, pouring water in and out of two cups.

Somewhere in the middle of implementing autism-therapy-strategies provided to me by our awesome therapist (who makes it appear effortless), and watching superman play soccer with his peers as his (super hot) daddy helped coach practice, I lost it. I wanted out of there and for the next thirty minutes I felt like I was going to climb out of my skin.

I watched the other children play and laugh and kick the ball as I struggled with monchichi and wondered what the other parents were thinking as I tried to connect with my son who was so far out of reach.

I sobbed for no less than two hours that night. I realized quickly that I was grieving. It was scary and unexpected, this flood of emotion. I was consumed with anger and resentment, jealousy and pain. I wanted monchichi in long red soccer socks and I wanted him to wear shin guards and I wanted him to know how to kick a ball. I cried for the dreams that won't come true, the unpredictable and fast approaching future, and the little boy who would rather play with two cups and water than chase a ball with some friends.

This pain has shaken me to the core and I have not been the same since. I am respecting my right to mourn the loss of what could have been. My best friend has announced that I have every right to visit this dark and painful place, but that I must not stay too long. And I agree; it is far less enjoyable to delve into my anger and sorrow than it is to celebrate milestones and small miracles. But it is also just as necessary.

So I continue to pray for strength and inspiration, but I never have to look far for either. I am greeted each morning with the two reasons that make me who I am.