It is wonderfully appropriate that when I first began writing this, the song playing in the background was, “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us”, for nothing more identifies our life together than God’s incredible love for us. It is with those words in mind that I write my thoughts today.

My son turns 20 years old today. Of course, his birthday and his life looks considerably different than most young people this age because of the way autism significantly impacts his life. He is not in college like many of his typical peers nor does he work a job or attend a trade school. Driving a car is not an option nor is having his own apartment. In fact, as far as I can see, he will continue to live with me and I will continue to be his 24/7 caregiver for all the days of my life. What happens beyond that, only God knows.

This is not the life I expected for my firstborn child and it certainly is not the life I dreamed of for myself.

But both are lives covered by the love of a merciful and gracious Heavenly Father.

When I discovered I was expecting, it seemed the pieces of my life were finally coming together. I had waited and longed so greatly for a child of my own but I recognize now, as I reflect back upon the years, that longing was rooted in selfishness. I wanted a child so I could feel complete. I prayed many years for a baby and when I learned I was carrying this firstborn child of mine, my prayers intensified. I begged God not to give me a child with an illness or disability; I pleaded, as most do, for a healthy baby.

For the first few weeks of my pregnancy, I held the sweet secret close to my heart. I was not ready to share the news because no one knew of the heartaches that led up to that positive test. No one knew what was happening in my world or the deep secrets I carried and I found I simply wanted to cherish my happy news myself before I had to share with the world. But, just six weeks into the pregnancy, I developed heavy bleeding that sent me rushing to the doctor. For the next several weeks, I had countless ultrasounds and blood tests as doctors struggled to determine the cause of the bleeding and whether the life inside me continued to live.

For indeed, there was life inside of me even then.

Ultrasounds continued to show a tiny heartbeat, beating still despite the doctors’ dire warnings. Blood tests continued to show elevated levels in my blood, indicating I was still pregnant. The bleeding gradually lessened as the life in my womb continued to grow, but I only grew more fearful.

It is hard to explain my thought process at the time, but I believed that I had to earn love, even the love of my Heavenly Father. When it seemed likely I would lose my baby, I began to sink into a place of survival, willing myself to withstand another failed attempt of being worthy enough to be loved. I numbed myself and I waited — waited to see what would become of my baby — and me.

At the 20 week ultrasound, I saw a wriggling little body moving all around as I watched that little heart beat steady and strong. I received the welcome news that my baby was whole and seemingly perfect. For the first time, since I initially saw the positive pregnancy test, I began to feel a shadow of hope again.

But it was only a shadow.

It was that shadow that carried me through the remainder of the pregnancy as other dreams continued to fade and struggles grew. It was what carried me through the crisis of an early and traumatic delivery. It was what covered me even as I cared for my baby under the watchful eyes of the NICU nurses for the first six days of his life.

I continued to carry that fragile shadow of hope when I finally brought my newborn baby home, completely unprepared for the days that lay ahead. I rocked my baby for endless hours as I sang over him and pleaded for God’s working in his life. Over and over, I told the Lord what I wanted him to do. What I was convinced He needed to do.

The sleepless newborn nights eventually transitioned into not meeting developmental milestones, toddler night terrors, countless appointments with doctors, therapists, and specialists and finally, the words, “Your child has classic autism. The most severe kind. He will probably never talk and he will never be independent.”

The fragile and weak hope that I had been tenaciously hanging onto dissipated in that instant, for it seemed as if God Himself had turned His face away from me.

But that little heartbeat that fought against all odds in the womb of his mother, continued to beat strong.

For the little person who held that heart was being held in the merciful hands of a Heavenly Father.

My son turned 20 years old today. The little heart that fought to keep beating as the placenta surrounding him hemorrhaged, has grown into the strong heart of a young man. A young man who continues to live with some very challenging aspects of autism and deep anxiety. A young man who continues to struggle with being able to express himself and rarely uses words. A young man who will always need 1:1 support and constant supervision. A young man who loves well and works hard to develop self-control even when in the deepest of internal battles. A young man with a crooked smile that shoots straight to the heart. A young man who loves his mamma and who is treasured in return. Today is his birthday.

I considered all the things I wanted to say on this birthday but the amount of them would fill several pages and take a lifetime to write. I pondered the stories I could tell and the heavy concerns I carry for the future as adulthood is looming ever closer. I weighed the lessons of the years of raising a child with great needs while balancing raising two other children who have their own needs. So much I would love to share on this day I pause to remember his birth and all the many years that have followed. But I will end this post with these two thoughts that are most pressing on my mind ~

First, I wish the world could understand the value of all life. In the womb, as my tiny baby fought against all odds to grow — he had value. As a newborn who stopped breathing and required around the clock nursing care — he had value. As a toddler who stopped meeting milestones and regressed with his language — he had value. As a young child with boundless energy, no words, and challenging behaviors — he had value. As a pre-teen with emerging anger issues and great anxiety — he had value. As a teen with all these issues and more — he had value. And now, as a young man who does not meet the norm of society and who continues to require constant supervision and care — he has value. His value was not assigned at birth when I held him and gave him a name. His value comes from God alone — the Creator of all life. He knew my son long before I held him in my arms and He counted the very hairs on his head. Life, all life, has value.

Secondly, as I considered all these years and contemplated the stories, the challenges, the victories, and the heartaches, I am left with this one final thought … How deep is the Father’s love for us. God could have answered my prayers as I wished and given me a child with no extra needs. He could have allowed me the sweet, easy life I wanted simply so I could ‘feel’ like I was loved and worthy of love. He could have patted me on the head and mollified the great need I had with superficialities that would have never satisfied the deep longing in my soul. Instead, according to His own plan, He gave me a child with such intense needs that I would have to walk a lonely journey to learn the truth. That truth? I do not need to ‘feel’ any superficial kind of love to be okay because I have learned that I am loved fully and completely by God. My value, just like my son’s, comes from God above. He knows my son’s name and He knows mine.

On this, my son’s 20th birthday, I can only lift my eyes to heaven and say ‘Thank you.’

How deep is the Father’s love towards us.

*How Deep the Father’s Love for us, written by Stuart Townend