Discovering that you are pregnant is one of the most magical yet frightening moments that you will ever experience in your lifetime on this earth. There is this minute of pure levity and wonderment followed by some of the most gut-wrenching fear and anticipation that you can ever experience and live to tell about it.

Even for those that are planning and hoping to have a child, the fear is something that no one can ever describe to you until you feel it for yourself.

This world is no longer your own. You are going to be a parent.

While you are growing on the outside, on the inside, you are growing, as well. You are mentally preparing to be a mother, a provider, a protector, and a best friend all simultaneously. You make these wildly elaborate plans and research the very best of schools in your area and check waiting list times for private lessons. You find yourself dreaming of impossible dreams that your child will be the doctor that cures all cancers or a president that ends all wars. The beauty and potential in the limitless possibilities of a life that is in your care and protection is such an amazingly awe-inspiring thing that you find yourself lying awake at night just imagining possible futures for your yet unborn child.

Though, as is the case with many things in this life, that is where your control actually ends. In those nighttime fantasies dreamt with all of the best of intentions.

Maybe it was from the very moment of birth, or the milestone charts that seemingly left your precious bundle in the dust, or at the behest of a teacher or medical professional…but one day, for some of us, some of the ideals of what our “perfect child” would be were shattered.

Now you are raising not just a son or daughter but raising a child with special needs. I remember that moment in my life as clearly as I remember my name. I recall thinking, “What about my plans? What about all of my dreams?”

It was a feeling that plagued me for months and months. In that time, I mourned. I mourned the death of my dreams, my hopes for my little son, and the future that I had so lovingly crafted all of those years ago lying in my bed. Because the truth of the matter was, for my son, nothing had changed. He still loved cars and hated vegetables.

He was still a little ball of fiery energy that was the happiest when he was in front of an electronic device. Though for me, it was as though someone had told me that he was in some way ‘broken’ and it was my job to ‘fix’ him.

Though with time and an enormous amount of self-reflection I learned that the majority of what I was dealing with was my own personal issues. I realized that, with this knowledge, I was being blessed in a way. Most parents go their entire life trying to guide and nearly attempt to force their children into their vision of a future.

The now trivial, in hindsight, choice of colleges, of careers, of choosing the right person whom to marry…these were all of the things that had once been of the utmost importance to me and I could easily see myself becoming that dreadfully overbearing parent that pushes their children away in the attempt to make them better.

Now, thankfully,  I never will be. I will always be a parent that loves, that appreciates, and guides to the very best of my ability. I will see where his greatest potential lies and work with him to make that into a better future.

My son may never be the doctor that cures all cancers and that is okay. It is more than okay, it’s exponentially amazing. We will work our hardest and always do our very best to make sure that he is excelling for him. I think that letting go of our ideals of who our children should be is freedom, and a freedom that many parents may never, ever know

. And while I can certainly see the looks in the eyes of some of the mothers on the playground, silently being grateful that their child is “normal”, I feel sorry-in a way-for them. Because there is nothing, nothing that is more liberating than letting go.

Realizing that life will always hand you what it will, of that we have no control, but it is how we respond to that challenge that makes us who we are. I, for one, want to be a person that my son can look up to. A person that is truly deserving of his love.

To me, there is no greater gift than being able to throw out the milestone charts and evaluation checklists and enjoy every moment of raising my beautiful little boy who just happens to have special needs.

Let the rest of the world fall down around us if it may.