Around and around we went in the gym of Gabe's old school.
Skipping around in a circle, smiling at Gabe and cheering "Yeah!"
"This is so much fun!" Are you having fun too?" Gabe smiles back at me.
The music changes and we all start galloping.
I swear I hear the song "Just the two of us" begin, playing faintly in the background. This IS so much fun! Gabe and I. What a pair.
That's when I got the cue.
"Fade back."
"Let's see how he does on his own," his therapist says gently.
Already?
So soon?
Are you sure?
I step back, regain my breath. The older they get, the harder it is to keep up.
Looking over in his direction, I see that they are all now tiptoeing, pausing to put their fingers up to their mouth, "Shhhhh." Gabe giggles. This is his favorite part of the song.
And there he is...on his own.
Without me.
What happened?
Where did all the time go?
I'm not ready.
I really am not.
I know I should be.
I know I have to do this.
But he was 2 years old just yesterday!
Trust is a huge issue with me. Who will watch and make sure he is getting all that he needs if I am not there to guide, nurture and cheer? Does that statement sound arrogant? The assumption that only I could provide exactly what my son needs. I know in my mind that it is false, but my heart sways me a whole other direction most of the time.
I sadly and painfully let go of Boo this year when she started Kindergarten. Leaving her at preschool out of my sight was traumatic enough for me, so I was at least prepared somewhat mentally for the transition this year. Her severe allergy to peanuts just compounded my anxiety. I have days when I wonder if she will be coming home that day or will this be the last time I say goodbye? Sounds overly dramatic, but having an allergy that causes anaphylactic shock, puts the possibility of death at your doorstep everyday. You hope that the adults around her notice the warning signs, because those same signs can mask themselves to appear less threatening like the flu, and time determines the difference between life and death. She is still too young to give herself the shot. I do not know if she would anyway. Boo is petrified of her Epi Pen.It hurts. Boo and shots do not mix.
Either way, I know I would still be as neurotic and anxiety ridden with or without allergies or a diagnosis. That's just who I am. I have been "working on it" my whole life.
So, I stood back once again and watched Gabe. I have been doing that a lot lately. Sometimes restraining my hands by placing them in my pockets or under my legs when I sit. I curl my lips in, so as not to say anything when Gabe is asked a question by someone he doesn't know. I repeat in my head generalize, generalize. If I am there to always repeat the question he will never answer for anyone else. That is the hardest habit to break for me. It's so much easier if I create the first footing to the bridge of communication for him, so that's what I tell myself, eventhough I know it is not true.
Fade back.
I thought this is what you did during their teenage years, but then isn't that really when they need you most? When transition is no longer referring to letting go of blankets and pacifiers, but about serious life choices that could forever change the course of your child's life. Is fading back a road that other parents are already on? Our path seems so underdeveloped in some areas, with potholes and gravel, while other parts are as smooth as a new subdivisions entrance. I'm never sure whether I will need the SUV on a given day or will our compact get us to where we need to go safely without adversely affecting our alignment.
We received another birthday invitation today. Our neighbor's little boy is turning 4 years old. I had a hard time swallowing when I saw the number 4 right above Scooby Doo's grin. Four? Already? Gabe is 6 months younger than him. Gabe will be four soon. He'll also be 25 someday, but the number four means so many more things to me right now. Milestones that bring worry. The largest being, sending Gabe to school, very possibly a public one. The most terrifying test of all for me. The time where I will really be fading back. Where mommy's do not hold their child's hand throughout the day, protect from bullies and provide clear understanding of the wants and needs for their child.
I am, in effect, Gabe's public relations agent.
It's time for me to move out of the way.
I'm hogging the red carpet.
It's time for me to fade back.
