But in the same breath, how can anyone say, "don't worry" when it comes to your child. Special needs or not. It's in the blueprint of being a mom. It's embedded in our brains. Lord have mercy, I've gone insane. Just because this perfectly qualified, expert on the subject says don't worry means I shouldn't worry. Those are my worries.
Some days, things are okay. There are no meltdowns, no come aparts, and no panic. Eating is easy. Getting dressed is a breeze. Playing is fun. And good times are had! We watch country music videos and color and tickle and giggle. The stuff life's made of...the stuff that makes me thankful I had a child and became a mom.
Some days, I am frazzled. On the frazzled days, I worry all day long. And panic all day long. And I cry alone in the bathroom on my breaks. Or if I'm off, I lay in bed watching mindless TV wondering if I can do "this". Am I the right person to raise this child? "This." I just put quotation marks around something I can't quite explain. On something I don't want to put in harsh terms. Autism. There it is. That word. The dreaded, painful word. Noah is learning to deal and live with Autism. I am learning to parent Autism. Luckily, for now, Noah has no idea he is "different" or "developing slower than other "normal children."" Sorry for all the quotations. Please know that I know no other way to say it. Normal is the only word I know for regularly developing children. Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). They say if you've seen one child with autism, you've seen one child with autism. There are no two autistic children the same. And I completely agree. It's a spectrum of complex developmental impairments. I.E.: social impairments, communication difficulties, and restricted, repetitive, and/or stereotyped patterns of behavior.
I would describe Autism as having a different processor. Like Windows XP and Windows 8. Completely different. Neither are wrong. Just different. Or like Mac and PC. Totally different. But there is really no picture that I can paint to explain. I can barely explain it to myself. But, if I've learned one thing it's that you have to look at Autism with your heart and not your eyes. And yes raising a child with Autism is hard. But it's the best kind of hard there is. Love is hard. Doing the right thing is hard. But it's easy to love Noah and do the right thing for Noah. That's all I know.
I posed a question earlier. "Am I the right person to raise this child?" I believe I am. I believe kids pick their parents. And this special soul chose me. He chose me. What a great way to look at this. He knew I was equipped to handle it. I work early, early, early hours to who knows what time. Dialysis is questionable. I never know when I'll be home. But I guarantee that when I walk in the door, I'll be greeted with a toothy smile by a little boy with some kind of cookie residue all over his face and hands. Toys everywhere. That's evidence of joy. No matter what kind of day I've had. And with dialysis, you never know. He's always happy to see me. Always. No question. It's concrete. And we all need a little concrete in our lives. He teaches me something everyday. He's most recently taught me to look at things with my heart and not my eyes. Your heart knows the reasons and it may not tell you as quickly as you'd like but eventually you'll see. And right now I see a sweet little boy with a tattered Winnie the Pooh and his Nanny's iPad playing games. My heart. My whole word.
"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
Some days, things are okay. There are no meltdowns, no come aparts, and no panic. Eating is easy. Getting dressed is a breeze. Playing is fun. And good times are had! We watch country music videos and color and tickle and giggle. The stuff life's made of...the stuff that makes me thankful I had a child and became a mom.
Some days, I am frazzled. On the frazzled days, I worry all day long. And panic all day long. And I cry alone in the bathroom on my breaks. Or if I'm off, I lay in bed watching mindless TV wondering if I can do "this". Am I the right person to raise this child? "This." I just put quotation marks around something I can't quite explain. On something I don't want to put in harsh terms. Autism. There it is. That word. The dreaded, painful word. Noah is learning to deal and live with Autism. I am learning to parent Autism. Luckily, for now, Noah has no idea he is "different" or "developing slower than other "normal children."" Sorry for all the quotations. Please know that I know no other way to say it. Normal is the only word I know for regularly developing children. Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). They say if you've seen one child with autism, you've seen one child with autism. There are no two autistic children the same. And I completely agree. It's a spectrum of complex developmental impairments. I.E.: social impairments, communication difficulties, and restricted, repetitive, and/or stereotyped patterns of behavior.
I would describe Autism as having a different processor. Like Windows XP and Windows 8. Completely different. Neither are wrong. Just different. Or like Mac and PC. Totally different. But there is really no picture that I can paint to explain. I can barely explain it to myself. But, if I've learned one thing it's that you have to look at Autism with your heart and not your eyes. And yes raising a child with Autism is hard. But it's the best kind of hard there is. Love is hard. Doing the right thing is hard. But it's easy to love Noah and do the right thing for Noah. That's all I know.
I posed a question earlier. "Am I the right person to raise this child?" I believe I am. I believe kids pick their parents. And this special soul chose me. He chose me. What a great way to look at this. He knew I was equipped to handle it. I work early, early, early hours to who knows what time. Dialysis is questionable. I never know when I'll be home. But I guarantee that when I walk in the door, I'll be greeted with a toothy smile by a little boy with some kind of cookie residue all over his face and hands. Toys everywhere. That's evidence of joy. No matter what kind of day I've had. And with dialysis, you never know. He's always happy to see me. Always. No question. It's concrete. And we all need a little concrete in our lives. He teaches me something everyday. He's most recently taught me to look at things with my heart and not my eyes. Your heart knows the reasons and it may not tell you as quickly as you'd like but eventually you'll see. And right now I see a sweet little boy with a tattered Winnie the Pooh and his Nanny's iPad playing games. My heart. My whole word.
"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
-E.E. Cummings
