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Back when my son was three I really wanted another baby. REALLY REALLY wanted another one. My husband however did not. After much discussion, we came to a compromise. It takes six months for a vasectomy to become affective. I would have those six months to get pregnant, or not. If not, that would be it. No more talk of babies. It didn’t happen and I was pretty sad about it at the time. I had been hanging onto all the expensive baby things just in case (stroller, portable crib, changing table, etc…). After the six months when it was obvious we would have an only child, I gathered them all together, took a picture and sent them off to a consignment shop.

I can’t tell you how glad I was to take that photo. There was some sense of closure about it that I really needed. All the symbols of baby-hood altogether to say “good bye.”

Fast forward eleven years. I was laying in bed last night thinking of our son. How he is now 100% a teenager. He isn’t very much like the little boy I used to have at all. I still dream about that little boy. In an odd way I feel like he’s gone. He’s gone and has been replaced by this young man who I struggle every day to get to know. This guy who is very different from my little boy.

I feel like it’s a big change. Bigger than most people realize when your child enters that time of life. They are like newborns all over again. But newborns who don’t want parenting (but need it just as much). All raw nerves and hormones. Everything is too loud, too strong, too much. They have new energy, interests, social groups, work to do and things to learn. It’s a drastic change that quite literally (at least for us) happened overnight.

I miss my little boy. I also am excited for my little-man. Like any relationship, I work hard to get to know him. What does he like? Not like? Eat? Enjoy? Stress about? Want in life? Think about? Since these change daily, I constantly try to talk to him. Luckily he enjoys talking with me (for now), I feel pretty up-to-date. It is an odd feeling however. Like my boy has been replaced. I feel a need to mourn that little one, just like I did the baby items that would never see another baby.

I am very proud of my son and feel he is blossoming into a wonderful guy. I’m also proud of the job his father and I are doing raising him. When I look back, I’m glad we didn’t have another child. At the time we didn’t realize our son was on the Autism Spectrum and I know our son would have missed out on a lot of vital attention, money and therapy if we had a second child. But the heart isn’t always logical. The same goes for this time in our lives. My heart mourns the passage of his little childhood, even though I’m proud and pleased to see him transition into young adult.