Fifteen

My oldest is fifteen today.  FIF-TEEN.  15.  (fifteen) Can you tell I'm having some difficulty with this?

I don't know where to start.  Noah is the child we didn't know we needed.  I heard Natalie Grant refer to her youngest daughter that way last year; for years I had struggled with exactly how to talk about Noah, and her reference nailed it.  Most people would use that to describe their last (surprise) child, but we use it to describe our very first (surprise!) child. Noah was planned, but further into the future than when he arrived. He was wanted, but at the time, I could not fathom just how much I needed him, this boy of mine who has taught me lasting lessons about life, myself and how to be the kind of mom my children need. Noah was my first maternal introduction to God's timing and purpose, not my own.  My life would be tragically different without Noah.  While he surprised us, I will never say he was unexpected, unwanted or unplanned.  He was the child we did not struggle to conceive, but just like his brothers, he was desperately wanted.  At the time, we knew we weren't ready to be parents, weren't even sure we were ready to be married, and we relied even less on God and His perfect timing.  We did know that we wanted this baby, but that was about all we knew.  We've been very open with Noah about this; we don't ever want him to think we got married because we had to, or had him because we had to.  The circumstances don't change the fact that he is just as wanted, loved, prayed for and needed as his brothers.

When I say Noah took us by surprise, he's kind of been consistent with that his entire life.  When you have a child, you tend to not think of the things that could go 'wrong.' Instead, you envision a perfect life with a cherubic little baby who sleeps through the night from the beginning, never gets sick, and is always happy.  Enter Noah.  Enter reality.  When I say that we had no clue how to be parents, I'm also pretty sure he had no clue how to be a baby.  

Years later, we were finally able to tie it all together--his quirks, awkwardness, behavior challenges--with a diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome.  It explained his infancy, his childhood, and the challenges we faced raising him, as well as the challenges he faced in being him.

Timothy Noah Paul, I love you.  I'm so proud of you.  I'm proud of how you've matured, I'm proud of your accomplishments and all you've achieved. It is a blessing and my joy to be able to watch you grow and mature into the young man God intends you to be. Do you know that when you were diagnosed, we didn't have hope of such things?  The specialists gave us little hope of anything other than living with us for the rest of your life.  We were told to have few expectations.  Sometimes, I want to take you back to those specialists and tell them to suck it as I parade you in front of them.  Sometimes, I want to take out a billboard with your picture on it, telling other parents to have hope and not give up.  I'm proud of how you've stared down the face of what most consider a disability, and turned into a major ability.  I'm proud of how you've mastered life, and everything you've overcome to get to where you are.  Your hard work has paid off, and you're becoming one incredible, amazing young man.  I'm proud of how you make others rethink autism and disabilities, how open you are with your diagnosis, and unashamed of how God made you.  I'm grateful for the gift you are and the many lessons you've taught me. I love your sense of humor, and the conversations we have. I love how much you make me laugh.  I love that you can laugh about being our "practice child," and even make your own jokes about it (Parenting skills?  Who needs parenting skills?).  I'm pleased with the kind of big brother you are and I love how you dote on Avery and Ezra.  You truly bless them.  I'm so grateful for the love you have for them, even when one of them might be particularly difficult.  You are their hero, and you are worthy of that title.  I'm grateful for the way you put up with me and all of my antics, my mamarazzi photography, and the things I sign you up for.  You handle it with style and ease, even when you aren't really happy about it!  Most importantly, I'm proud of you just because you're you.  I'm grateful for the ways you bless me, and that I get to be your mom.  I love you more than you could ever possibly fathom.  Thank you for being my son.