{"id":890,"date":"2018-11-06T16:48:55","date_gmt":"2018-11-06T16:48:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/showcompassion.org\/?p=890"},"modified":"2018-11-06T16:48:55","modified_gmt":"2018-11-06T16:48:55","slug":"the-day-i-stopped-apologizing-for-my-son","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/showcompassion.org\/the-day-i-stopped-apologizing-for-my-son\/","title":{"rendered":"The Day I Stopped Apologizing for My Son"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img fetchpriority=\"high\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-large wp-image-945\" src=\"https:\/\/showcompassion.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/gage-web-1024x750.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1024\" height=\"750\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Article by Brittni Schroeder<\/p>\n<p>From the day my first son was born, I knew he was special. His dark perfectly-shaped eyebrows framed his bright brown eyes. His curiosity was apparent as a toddler as he scaled walls and broke through makeshift barriers. I often found myself saying, \u201cHe was here just a minute ago\u201d. I joked that he came sprinting out of the womb and never stopped. Along with his adventurous heart was his gift of gab. He loved to talk and talk and talk. He would start up conversations with people both old and young and often wouldn\u2019t stop until he surrendered to sleep. I adored this little boy and his love of people.<\/p>\n<p>But his non-stop talking, which I found so endearing, wasn\u2019t always well received. As he got older, his excitement and enthusiasm were sometimes criticized. I received my fair share of unsolicited advice:<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><i>Your son probably has ADHD.<\/i><span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><i>Your son always interrupts.<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>Your son won\u2019t stop talking to his classmates.<\/i><\/p>\n<p>The list went on and on.<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p>As an inexperienced and young mother, I was devastated. Not because his feelings were hurt, or his self-worth was under attack, but because I thought it was a reflection of my parenting. I took the criticism hard and staggered under the weight of unrealistic exceptions that often left me feeling like a failure as a mother.<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p>I read scores of parenting self-help books and attended parenting classes\u2014constantly trying to implement my findings. I found myself avoiding certain social situations, because I worried what others might say about my son\u2019s behavior. I began to apologize for his actions\u2014often in advance of anything even happening. If I was invited out somewhere, I\u2019d accept with a caveat: \u201cMy son is crazy and out of control, but we will be there.\u201d<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p>A wise friend with years of parenting experience recognized my inner struggle. She pulled me aside one day, gently placing her arm around my waist and said, \u201cAlways remember the things that drive us the most crazy about our children, is what will make them the most amazing adults.\u201d Then she lovingly told me to stop apologizing for my son\u2019s strengths.<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-large wp-image-944\" src=\"https:\/\/showcompassion.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/family-1024x748.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1024\" height=\"748\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Her words resonated, and I pondered them over the next several days. She was absolutely right. I wasn\u2019t a bad mom. My son was special, and I was chosen to be his mom. I made the decision then and there that I would never apologize for my son. I would teach him the difference between right and wrong, but I would never take away his spirit. If people criticized, I told them I was sorry that they felt that way. In my mind, he wasn\u2019t a manipulator, he was determined. He didn\u2019t talk too much, he was curious. He wasn\u2019t ADHD, he was excited about life. He wasn\u2019t disrespectful, he had a voice.<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p>Years passed, and he grew into a young man before my eyes. His personality stayed consistent. He was still always \u201chere just a minute ago\u201d. He had endless conversations with complete strangers. He was often found before or after class conversing with his teachers. The criticism didn\u2019t cease, and some people found him to be a bit too much. He was known for his gift of gab and his intuitive ability to detect when others were feeling down and I embraced and honored that about him.<\/p>\n<p>When he was 14 years old, he tragically passed away. One of my greatest gifts was suddenly stolen. But through the fog of our devastation and heartbreak, something beautiful and indescribable began happening. We started getting letters, messages, phone calls, and texts. These messages came from the most unpredictable and unexpected places. Within days we had received nearly 500 messages, several from people I did not know. These messages were words of admiration and love for my son, followed with stories of kindness and joy that he had brought to their lives. They spoke of his compassion during the darkest of times. Many tried to claim the title of \u201cbest friend\u201d, because that is how he made them feel. He had touched so many in such a profound way. My heart simultaneously burst with joy and sadness. I was so proud to be his mom.<\/p>\n<p>During this difficult time, I found myself reflecting over the years and memories we had created. I would have flashbacks of memories that I had long forgotten. I remembered the advice I had so generously been given so many years ago: The thing that drove me the most crazy was truly the thing that made my son the most amazing adult.<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Article by Brittni Schroeder From the day my first son was born, I knew he was special. His dark perfectly-shaped eyebrows framed his bright brown eyes. His curiosity was apparent as a toddler as he scaled walls and broke through makeshift barriers. 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