We arrive at the soccer field today, and as we step foot on the field fear, disappointment, and heartache pierced me. A day, I was so excited for was corrupted by my expectations and emotions. We pushed Jason on the field, prying him from my leg, and bribing him with cookies, grapes, and ice cream in order for him to attempt to play this game with 13 other kids. It became obviously clear that he was different. Holding back tears of sadness and fear for what is to come in the future for my son as he enters this new stage in his life where children and adults will continue to see him as being different due to his lack of coordination and balance and his silenced voice. I became a woman filled with thoughts that I was not comfortable with. So, I stopped. I stopped the racing thoughts of deterioration. I stopped the distorted vision I was observing my son through, and I stopped. I stood in front of my boy and the man I love and felt proud and blessed. I realized that I am blessed because my son had both of his parents on the field playing with him. He has a mom and a dad that both cheer for him. It became clear that I was seeing this picture of my life with the wrong eyes. Almost five years ago, the idea of my son playing soccer wasn't even something we ever imagined would or could happen. He may not run as fast as the other kids. He may not be able to dribble the soccer ball, but he can walk, he can run, and he is on the “Side Kicks” soccer team. Once I understood that it wasn't about my expectations, I saw the miracle that I have been blessed with for four years now.
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