A letter to my college graduate

Dear Luke,

In the blink of an eye, you are a college graduate. The boy who made me a mom.

As a mom often does, I marvel at you and am in awe of the man you have become.

From the very start, I knew that we had each other’s backs. I felt it. My fears calmed at the sight of your face for the very first time. My doubts about being a disabled mom vanished for a moment.

The doubts quickly returned as we left the safe space of the hospital where we stayed for several days after you were born. You, your dad, and I had created our own little haven. It was easy for me to feel confident there.

But I was smitten from your first cry. I knew that I was going to do whatever it took to be a mom who you would be proud to call “mom,” doubts and all. During our first days together, you were like a little doll that I had the privilege to love and care for.

Over time, we developed our own language. You learned things other kids were not learning. It was a lot to ask of such a tiny human. But it made you stronger. More resilient. My unsolicited perseverance born into you.

You learned patience as it took me longer to do things other moms could do in an instant. We lagged, finding joy in the journey. Learning as we went.

We had to stay home when others did not. Sometimes, I had to choose to skip out on the fun to protect you. That was tough for both of us. We accepted help when it was available, but I was adamant that I was your primary caregiver as much as I could be.

Over time, we accepted that as our normal. We started to become more comfortable and the older you got, the more I could explain what I needed you to do to stay safe. This allowed us more freedom to do things. Each time, we gained more confidence.

Still, there were doubts if I was giving you everything you needed. I never wanted my limitations to hold you back, or in any way block you from living out your purpose. I feared your purpose would be tangled up with my challenges, even if that were the last thing I wanted.

The times you were forced to witness discrimination towards me; it broke my heart.

You and your brother have taught me so much about myself and encouraged me to see that I do have value and a place in this world. Your lives have illuminated the stubborn darkness that used to live in me.

I vividly remember, you were there on the day my custom wheelchair arrived. It was a day I had dreaded for most of my life. At first, I did not want you there to see me “give up.” That is how I viewed having to use a wheelchair more. Going into that day, I felt like I had failed not just myself, but you, your brother, and dad, too.

Your calm and confident presence on delivery day made all the difference. That day turned out to be nothing like I had imagined all those years. It was so much better because of you.

My disability does not stop me from making sure you know how deeply loved you are.

Over the last four years, I have taken a backseat to your life and watched from a distance. So many times, I wanted to intervene and rescue you from hard things, but I knew I did not need to. You were equipped to handle hard things because you already had.

As I sat and watched you walk across the stage in Elliott Hall at Purdue University, accepting your Biomedical Engineering degree, I took a journey. I could not help but run through a catalog of memories.

That little guy who learned so many valuable life lessons from having a mom with a disability proudly shined at that moment in time. Just like I always knew you would.

I hope you will always carry with you the lessons we have both learned along the way. I was not strong like other moms, but in time, you helped me discover and voice what my strength does look like.

I am, always and forever, so honored to be mom to you and Jack. My strength and my joy.

Love,
Mom

“I’m so proud of us and I can’t explain the feeling of reading how you were worried your disability would tangle up in my purpose, just to know that’s exactly what happened but in the best of ways.” ~ Luke

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Winter 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.