Once upon a time, I was an overzealous expectant mom with a grand idea: a time capsule. We were so overjoyed to finally be pregnant; allowing ourselves to dream about this life we created. So, in the final trimester of my pregnancy I decided to make a time capsule for our beloved baby. We sent out letters to friends and family all over the country with a survey of sorts and imagined when we would open the coveted envelopes. One friend suggested when he graduated high school, another maybe when he was studying his family tree as a 10 year old. We never really settled on a time for sure; I decided I would know when the time was right; when those words would mean the most to him.
I stumbled across the box today, filled with baby outfits, his hospital hat and a pin from Northside Hospital announcing "I'm a Dad". The box also holds his first boy scouts derby car, a paint stained t-shirt from his first experience with finger paints, a beanie baby and newspapers from the day he was born. (He was born on a Sunday, so the papers are thick!) Seeing all the memorabilia put my heart in my throat for a moment. Made me reflect for a moment on all that we lost...
I'm trying not to stay in that moment, praying that truly I will know the right time to open those envelopes. The time when it will be most meaningful to my special son. There is a seed of hope inside me that believes there will be a time, in my lifetime, he will understand how special those letters are. And then, this journey will be in its own time capsule, a memory from another time when autism colored so much of our life. In the end, there is always hope.
I stumbled across the box today, filled with baby outfits, his hospital hat and a pin from Northside Hospital announcing "I'm a Dad". The box also holds his first boy scouts derby car, a paint stained t-shirt from his first experience with finger paints, a beanie baby and newspapers from the day he was born. (He was born on a Sunday, so the papers are thick!) Seeing all the memorabilia put my heart in my throat for a moment. Made me reflect for a moment on all that we lost...
I'm trying not to stay in that moment, praying that truly I will know the right time to open those envelopes. The time when it will be most meaningful to my special son. There is a seed of hope inside me that believes there will be a time, in my lifetime, he will understand how special those letters are. And then, this journey will be in its own time capsule, a memory from another time when autism colored so much of our life. In the end, there is always hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment