Like many of you this weekend, I saw the new super hero(ine) movie Wonder Woman, and also like many of you I especially loved watching the excitement of the young female audience as they watched the newest Justice League member unveiled. I’ve heard a lot of moms of girls express gratitude that their daughters can grow up trading in Barbie for Amazonian princess action figures and that’s completely awesome.
I do not have a daughter. I am raising two boys. But as I watched this movie, my heart resonated with that same feeling of: This is the super hero movie we needed. Wonder Woman is so important to me as a mom of boys, and here’s why:
“She looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend – as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables.
A year ago today, I walked out of the doctor’s office, one hand tightly gripping Kai’s, the other holding a shaking paper with the words “Diagnosis: Autism” written on it.
How does anyone accurately describe the storm of emotions that happen in a moment like that? It has taken me an entire year to become mindful enough of my own turmoil through this process to write a post like this, but I can so distinctly remember those beginning weeks when I was feeling things like:
I sprint through the emergency room doors, a dazed baby bouncing on my hip, scanning the room. When I spot my little man on the gurney, his tiny form nearly hidden by firemen, I bite my lip to keep it from trembling. His skin is a brighter red than I thought humanly possible, like he’d spent a few too many hours in the sun, it’s texture raised and bumpy, forming the signature hives of anaphylaxis.
Having a baby is the hardest thing in the world. It really is. Until: There are two babies. Suddenly, you will look back at the days when there was only one baby and you will invariably ask yourself: “What did I do all the time? How did I think that was hard?” It was! It was hard! You weren’t wrong. But add another baby and suddenly one baby becomes the equivalent of an island vacation in the now-kodaked version of your motherhood memories.
Nearly three months in, it still blows my mind that we have brought two little humans into the world. It is a continual wonder to me. I can now say: “I am a Mother of Boys.” Sometimes I find myself saying this the way that I used to say other things with a similar pleasure like, “My fiancé” when I first got engaged, or “We’re newly-weds” afterwards. Mother of boys. Plural! Anyway, my new job title comes with a new uniform as well: