Where has my Baby Boy Gone?

There are times when it just hits you. You realize in a blink of an eye your child has grown.

My son has grown a lot this summer.

Physically he has grown. Emotionally he has developed and matured. He's conquered new things.

In so many ways I am proud of him. Proud beyond measure. And of course, like every mother, it also makes me sad, yearning for those days when time stood still as I rocked my baby boy staring into his eyes. Eyes I still look at daily, but never is there time to just soak it all in.

It first hit me right after school let out. We were walking into the grocery store, when Jacob reached for my hand. On my right was the baby sister who has become programmed at three to always reach for my hand when in a parking lot. And as we began walking into the store, Jacob reached for my left hand. Maybe it was because I was holding his sister's teeny hand as well, but I realized his hand wasn't that much smaller than my own.

When had this happened? And how had I not noticed?

It made me sad the rest of the day and kept entering my head. My baby boy was growing up whether I liked it or not. I made a mental vow that day to notice and appreciate every time my son held on to my hand. Because lets face it, someday he simply won't need to, and at some point he may not want to.

Then last month, Jacob turned eight. Eight! How is that possible?

"He's the size of an average 12 year old boy," his pediatrician told me at his well visit.

Yes, it was confirmed. Jacob was indeed growing.

And I couldn't begin to tell you how many people have told me this summer, "Jacob, has grown taller since the last time I saw him!"

But beyond the physical stuff, he has grown in so many other ways. Is it safe to say that *gasp* he has possibly matured some? (or am I jinxing myself by saying that?)

Just the other day, the neighbor boys were outside playing baseball in the cul-de-sac. One of the boys got upset about a play, and left the game angry and crying. The boy was sulking in the garage, and Jacob slowly approached him. As I sat to the side I listened...

"Hey buddy. That was my fault out there. I really like playing baseball with you. I really want you to come back and play on my team. Let's go work it out..."

Here was my son, the one prone to his own meltdowns, the one who has cried over many a play in baseball, the one who has quit numerous games over the years, here he was calmly talking to this boy, reassuring him, helping him through his own anger.

Before long, Jacob and the other boy joined the others. They sat under the tree where they quietly and quickly agreed on the rules to make sure the same thing didn't happen again, and before long were playing baseball again.

It was awesome to watch.

There have been lots of surprises like that this summer.

Jacob went to baseball camp. He went to summer school and learned to swim, where last summer he wouldn't even go underwater. He's watched fireworks. He's learned patience with his baby sister, and without tattling can glance my way and give me a telling look.

Tonight as I went up to check on my baby boy before going to bed, I knelt by his bed and just stared at him as I had done night after night when he was a baby. I took it all in. How his feet hung over the edge of his bed. His thick hair matted to his forehead. His tanned skin wrapped in the bed sheet. This boy who used to fit in my arms, who nestled on my lap to watch Barney, whose tiny hand I could cup with my own was growing.

And as I knelt there by his bed, on his radio came this song.

"I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart. I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart..."

I had never heard it before. My music library these days involves old songs from the 90s and whatever Jacob tells me is "cool". But at this moment, this song was perfect.

I knelt there and silently sobbed. Tears of sadness for years that go so quickly. Tears for all the hard times and the days I had wished away because Autism had gotten the better of me. Tears of happiness for how far my son has come and for the greatness I know he will bring. Tears of unconditional love a mother has for her child.

Tears for the boy he is, and for the man he will become, and for my baby he will always be.