Bloom Where You are Planted

  "Bloom Where You are Planted." My grandmother has a framed cross-stitch with those words sitting on her mantel. She has had it for years and considers it a sort of mantra for herself. As a teenager I never really paid it much attention. I argued that people weren't "planted", they chose a spot and put down roots.

  Yesterday, as I walked into her house to drop off the kids for their weekly visit, the cross stitch caught my eye again. This time I felt it resonate.

    I have been feeling quite sorry for myself and my situation lately. I am not usually one to wallow in the "could have been" and "should have been" in life; I usually just muddle through and consider it my job to do the best that I can with the hand I have been dealt.
   This week, I was faced with a lot of situations that served as painful reminders of my son's disability and the growing gap between his development and that of his "normal" peers. I think in my head I harbored the illusion that Cole was going to grow out of a lot of his issues and be this quirky but intelligent, successful, and independent man. Maybe a scientist, a doctor, or an artist.

   I finally realized that Cole's Autism runs deeper than I thought it did and it's pulling him back with such force that I can not see how I will pull him forward through this life.

  Then there is the financial burden of raising four children on one income and the frustration that I can neither work or attend college so that I can contribute in any way because of the demands of raising four children, two of which have been identified as having special needs. I have lived life in fast forward and where most couples are just starting out, we are 11 years and four children into this life. We are trying to live the upper middle class lifestyle, have our kids go to the good schools, participate in sports, have nice clothes, new shoes, and vacations. Often we fail at that, and it hits me hard because I swore that I would try to never have my children be at a disadvantage because we were teen parents. I have always tried to be the "traditional" mother that is usually characterized by women ten years older than me, having gone to college, began a career, met their sweethearts and gotten married, bought the house with the white picket fence, THEN had the 2.5 kids and the dog.

     I struggle with the bitterness of regret. I wanted to go to college, all my teachers told me I was bright and could be anything I wanted to be. In 4th grade I had dreams of Harvard or Yale and even during the worst of my battles with Bulimia and OCD I still scored in the top two percent consistently. Circumstances and bad choices derailed me from fulfilling my aspirations. It has been hard to come to terms with the prospect of never actually seeing my dream realized.

     This is where I have been planted, and I have struggled to grow in the often unforgiving terrain of my life as it is now. I have certainly developed the thorns to protect myself, but I don't think I have allowed myself to bloom.

   I have got to learn to look at my life, not for what is could have been or should have been, but for what it is now. To "bloom" indicates more than growing, it indicates flourishing and I have not found a way to do that yet. I think the first step is to find happiness and satisfaction with myself and my life as it is now. I need to accept Cole's Autism and the impact is will have on my life forever.   

   I was a teenage mother. I got married too young and there are things I missed out on because of that. I had a child with a disability that has changed the trajectory of my life forever. I can't change those facts.

 But...

 I have four beautiful children, who give me a sense of purpose and fulfillment that no career in the world could give me. Cole's Autism has taught me to be more accepting of people, to see the world through a different  set of eyes, and it has presented me an opportunity to help others who are struggling.  Degrees and accomplishments can not cuddle up and watch cartoons with you. Vacations and nice shoes can't replace mom being there to greet you and make you a snack when you get off the bus. We will always have less things, but I am willing to give up things to have time with my children. I suppose I need to worry about making memories instead of money and I need to help Cole find his happiness... not his highest level of functioning.

   Of all the hard lessons I have learned in life, I think the most valuable one I can teach my children is to learn to bloom where ever  they are planted.