This little guy of mine is about to turn 9 in exactly one week. Birthdays, for some reason, have always been a bit of a challenge for me. I think it’s tied to how we measure children by age, and my guy never quite fits into that “supposed to be” place.
I will say that I usually bounce back pretty quickly. We’re big on birthdays in our household, and they tend to take over—or maybe I just willingly let them.
But wow, 9 is hitting me hard.
Maybe it’s because I vividly recall my own 9th birthday. It’s the first age where I can look back and truly remember who I was and what I enjoyed at the time. That was the year I got my first camera, a passion that I still have. I remember the friends I had and the hopes and dreams that filled my young mind.
Am I comparing my son to my younger self? Not intentionally, but it serves as a reminder of the expectations we have before understanding autism and realizing those expectations even exist.
I also think it has to do with observing other moms and their sons around this age. I’ve been noticing it more and more—overhearing sons talking to their moms about their day, their likes, sometimes even arguing. It seems like an age where many mother-son relationships undergo a shift, with the son gaining more independence and a unique rapport building between them.
I’m grateful for and cherish the way my son and I interact. We share a bit of that bantery and a buddy relationship, but I’d say it’s more like being with a much younger child, navigating through a multitude of emotions.
Then there’s the elephant in the room—puberty. My son seems to be following the trend where puberty arrives earlier in many kids today. Nothing major yet, but emotions and temperaments have been gradually building and intensifying. The kid is growing like a weed in the summer, and we’re on the verge of entering the days of a little boy in a big kid’s body.
Watching our kiddos grow up naturally tugs at every mom’s heartstrings, but the complexities of autism add a unique layer to that experience. My son still loves to curl up on my lap and receive all the cuddles. I’m still “mommy.”
We remain his number one people while others his age seem to strive for independence and worry about impressing friends. I’m torn between wanting to keep him close forever and feeling a twinge of sadness that he hasn’t followed those typical paths and relationships.
My boy is truly his own person. He’s put in tremendous effort and come a long way. I’m incredibly proud of him. Excited for what 9 will bring but admittedly a little nervous about the distinctive path we’re forging together.
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