A Mother’s Mantra

Over Hanukkah my husband and I said farewell to our 15-year-old son. Months later we still haven’t fully processed that Josh no longer lives with us, but in a residential setting geared to handle a teenager with autism. One that will teach him the daily living skills that he so desperately needs while assessing his abilities and proclivities to allow him the best shot at a life of meaning and purpose.

The only expression I’ve found to give me some sense of both clarity and acceptance amid my sadness is the one that Jews have traditionally uttered upon receiving the news of a soul’s departure from this earth: Baruch Dayan Ha’emet, blessed is the true Judge.

I suppose on the surface it seems odd to say that I have found a source of connection and comfort in this phrase. As the mother of a child whose autism can unpredictably affect his mood and behavior, I’m no stranger to judgment. To some extent the uninformed neurotypical world sees Josh’s behavior as my fault. Explaining that the way autism effects his body is sometimes parallel to an elderly person’s hands trembling beyond one’s control could be the start of a conversation in which I have no interest in engaging.

Equally undesirable are the questions that often arise upon the revelation: how did he get this way? Do you have other children? What are your future plans? When this happens, I handle it in the best way I know in the moment, and attempt release of the awkwardness of the experience through my mantra: Baruch Dayan Ha’emet, blessed is the true Judge.

Modified Goals and Expectations

When Josh was born it was an emotionally unencumbered celebration; after his bris, the standard blessing was made wishing him a life filled with the trifecta of Torah, chuppah and ma’asim tovim, good deeds. Once he was diagnosed and the years passed, we knew that Josh wouldn’t marry. And while the notions of intellectual study and good works could feasibly be modified for achievement to some degree, it was hard to depict the Jewish community at large as able to celebrate Josh’s triumphs, which often meant as much or more, yet received far less reverence than those of his neurotypical peers.

This Sunday will be my first Mother’s Day without my son, a notion that is both awkward and painful.

My husband and I therefore decided to throw him a “Josh Mitzvah,” a modified culturally celebrated thirteenth birthday party in school. It coincided with a school-wide costumed Halloween party, which made it both irreverently fun and bittersweet. I reminded myself that the purpose of this event was to celebrate Josh as an active member our family and our heritage, and that my stereotypical “Jewish mother” desire to know that he had some sense of his religious identity wasn’t its point.

And so, I internally repeated my phrase of acceptance and surrender: Baruch Dayan Ha’emet, blessed is the true Judge.

This Sunday will be my first Mother’s Day without my son, a notion that is both awkward and painful. In order to cope it helps to remember the biblical mothers of the past: Rebecca, who disguised Jacob so that he could receive the blessing of the firstborn, and watched him depart not knowing if they would meet again. Yocheved, who sent Moses adrift in the Nile to save his life.

I realize the circumstances of Josh’s departure aren’t quite as dramatic, but I also recognize the unnerving uncertainty that comes with being Josh’s mother. As mothers we don’t make difficult choices because we know a given outcome; sometimes we sacrifice because we know what will happen if we don’t take action. In taking that gamble, we put our best intentions out into the universe, and hope that they, and whatever work we did prior, will be enough to help our children cope, and for us to weather on as well.

This Mother’s Day I will attempt release the fear, choose hope, and thank God for this opportunity for Josh, whatever the future holds. In doing so, I will express my statement of gratitude and faith as I continue to take it one day at a time under the circumstances.

Baruch Dayan Ha’emet, blessed is the true Judge indeed.