There are doubts.  In everyday life, I have doubts.  I doubt my decision of clothing, food, make-up (or lack of), chores, errands, etc. I have doubts.  I also have doubts about the abilities of my autistic child.  I doubt she can do things like normal sixteen-year-olds.  The history of raising her has taught me this. I stick to what I know.  I know she doesn’t like crowds, loud noises, lightening, and thunder.  I know that we must stick to the list of grocery items, and there is NEVER any going back for something we forgot.  We must always go forward.   I doubt that I can make her do new things.  Or has it just been easier to doubt, then to try?

I made a promise to myself when I became a single parent, that I would do things with each of my children individually.  I wanted to make sure they both felt special.  There aren’t two parents here to give them individual attention, so I do that on my own.  Brendan has always been in to soccer.  I was a soccer player, and he has loved the game since he was four-years-old.  He’s now on a travel team, and I try to make EVERY game.  I doubt that he will be mad if I miss, but I want him to know that I support him in everything he does.  For the first time this past year, Phoebe wanted to do a dance class.  I doubted her abilities when she was little, and she never took a dance class.   She wasn’t good at paying attention or listening, so I just never took her.  I doubted her.  A friend told me of a local dance studio that had a special needs dance class.  So, I took a chance and signed her up.  This was just for her.  I wasn’t going to make her do it.  It was her decision.  She had to be comfortable.  I REALLY doubted she would do it.  I really did.  We started in October.  The class was free of charge, and 45 minutes long.  We went every week.  There was only one week she wouldn’t get out, and that was practice of recital week.  She just refused.  Her anxiety was high.  Doubt.

Last Saturday night, I sat in a theater of about 300-400 people and watched my daughter dance.  Not to mention we sat for more than 2 hours (Dance number 61).  I really doubted she’d wait. She got up, and she did a whole routine with her friends, on a stage…with lights…and darkness. I sobbed.  I mean I sobbed for the whole routine.  I doubted her every step of the way.  I really did.  I told her we could go home when she looked stressed.  I doubted.

She did not doubt.  When she was done, she looked at me and said, “Let’s go mom, I did it.”  (Insert big tears)

When we got home she said, “That was exhausting, next year I’m wearing a skirt. And, why do you cry all the time?”

No doubt, next year she will wear a skirt and I’ll be crying. 🙂