It’s inevitable that our will kids get older, and that we as parents will be sad. It’s obvious, and cliché, and silly to want to turn back the clock to the days when my now 14-year-old daughter was a baby, and I could still hold her and hug her anytime I wanted. Doesn’t stop it from being true.
It’s been a hard year for her. She’s been in counseling all year, working mainly on her anxiety, depression and social skills due to her autism. She’d decided that for this year that she’d like go back to public school, despite having been homeschooled since the fifth grade, so even though I wasn’t really on board with the idea we went for it.
It went terribly. All of the progress she’d made getting her anxiety under control went right out the window and the depression we thought was now taken care of with medication came roaring back, complete with suicidal thoughts. The school wouldn’t work with us to provide accommodations and Morgan wasn’t capable of waiting for us to fight it out.
We went back to homeschooling but damage had been done and smoothing out the routine of homeschooling has been a long process. I don’t think we’re there yet, despite the fact that the school year is about over.
She’s changed so much this past year. She’s questioned everything, from authority to her faith to her gender identity. While Kent and I struggle to keep up with what new idea she’s going to latch on to next, we’re praying constantly that she will stay close to us so that we will at least be aware enough to respond correctly. I think about how hard it is for us, but then I remember how much harder it must be for her. In the end this is her life and her journey
She’s beautiful and smart, artistically and musically gifted and the people she allows to know her love her deeply. I’m so grateful to be her mother.
Happy birthday Morgan, my love.