Sweet 16 - Sweet, but hard

Edited to add: I thought it fitting to use this for my Wordfull Wednesday post (more entries at Chocolate on my Cranium) because even though it's hard, it's also amazing to be Ty's mother.

Tyler's 16th birthday came and went last week without the usual accompanying 'Sweet 16' celebration. In fact, I hate admitting this, I didn't even wish him a Happy Birthday on his birthday. (I know! What is wrong with me?) Ever since I filled in the dates on the fridge calendar last month I have been thinking about it, so it's not that it hasn't been on my mind - it has. Oh, how it has.

I remember when we first started taking him to Early Intervention-speech, physical and occupational therapies-he was 6 months old. A case worker brought a video for us to watch entitled, Mourning the Loss of your Dream. She expected us to break down and sob, let it all out so we could "move on."

It's strange, but at that time we felt no real sense of loss for the life he might have had if he'd never had his shots at 2 months resulting in a life-altering brain injury. Instead, we had a strong feeling that he would lead us on a journey of much growth and love. And oh, how he has.

However, that sense of loss has snuck in like a stranger in the night a few times since then:

when the neighbor's baby started walking
and talking

when the kids in his class started being invited to birthday parties
and reading, writing and learning arithmetic

when the kids in his scout troop (the one he would've been in) started getting their Eagles
and, now, when they are driving, dating, and discovering their talents

I think about how it might have been - the friendships he'd have made, the girls he'd be crushing on (or who'd be crushing on him), the kind of big brother he'd be (definitely sweet), the miles of running and walking he'd have done by now, the sports he'd have loved to play, the food he'd be devouring during his teenage growth spurts, and yes, even the musical instruments he might have taken up.

On milestone birthdays, these thoughts and dreams raise their heads and give me pause. I am sad for him and also, selfishly, sad for me. Sad that the only conversations we have are the ones in my mind or with our eyes, sad that he cannot (right now) have the dreams in my heart for him or become independent and have these same dreams for his own future children.

I let myself mourn what might have been and then, carefully, I tuck those dreams back into their treasure box to store up against some far distant future where God will breathe Life into them. Then I come back to how it is, rejoicing today in the many lessons he's taught me, all the many ways in which he has stretched the corners of my soul - filling them up with love and gratitude for a life so precious.

He is my Sweet 16. Happy Birthday son!