Autistic Inspiration

Picture a house. Your dream house. Hard wood floors, tiled shower, jetted bathtub, tall ceilings, gourmet kitchen. Everything you've ever wanted. Now one thing I should mention. No dishwasher. But you don't really mind the dish washing by hand. But there's a space where the dishwasher should be. You are perfectly happy washing the dishes, but all you can see is the place where a dishwasher goes. Your dream house is still your dream, just missing something. On August 31 at 12:16 AM, I got my "dishwasher." All 5 lbs and 15 oz. With tears streaming and heart racing, I stared at this baby girl for about 30 seconds before they whisked her away to the nursery. She was my missing piece: the hole I didn't know I was missing and was completely aware of all at the same time. The first time Noah saw her she was four days old. She was in the NICU and it was the first day I felt somewhat normal. Tired and sore, but with two babies to love. I held her close and Kevin pu...

Today, while gathered with the family watching football I was surfing Facebook. I came across a story of a young mother who was asked to leave a restaurant she was eating in with her family. Why you ask? Her autistic son was "disturbing the other guests." She replied to the manager that her son was special needs to which he replied that he understood but those people didn't care. Is it just me or is that unacceptable? And sadly, that news story is one among many. When did this world become a place where people with special needs are treated as though they are less? Why are their  needs any less important than neuro-typical people? Why are they treated like less? These questions flooded my mind. And there I was. Sobbing during a football game surrounded by everyone. I've been where she's been. I've felt the hurt and panic and rage all at the same time. There's just something sometimes that rattles our sweet baby's minds and there's no way to kno...

It's 7 pm on a school night and I've decided to see how far I can take this potty training thing. So, here goes. I take the diaper off; I put the big boy underwear on; I give him a juice box. Now, we wait. I set a timer for fifteen minutes on my phone. Two rounds and no pee pee. Ten minutes into the third round and he's dry. Excellent. Minute thirteen, I check him and he's gone ALL over the couch. Really? Good grief. I know it's not his fault. I know he can't help it. That day I had failed. So, I put a diaper on him and give him a big kiss, fighting tears. Big, fat, hot tears. Tears of frustration not at my  boy but at "Autism." I tuck him into bed and then I let go. Scrubbing the couch and floor and rug and any other surface that I deemed necessary for my wrath with disinfectant and tears. Autism wins. Sometimes, Autism wins. And it's not pretty. It doesn't come in a beautiful package to unwrap. It's raw and ugly. Short fuses, repetition...

My Dearest Noah, Today you are five years old. And I cannot believe it. My darling boy, oh the dreams and ambitions I have for you. To be happy first and foremost, but to have a purpose. You've done so much already, more than I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams. I truly believe you were sent to this Earth to make people happy. You are kind, sweet and so intuitive. How can this much kindness be in such a young heart!? You, my sweet, got that from your Nanny. So patient and endearing, I am amazed at how much you've taught me. I knew I'd love you but I was never sure how much. To the moon and back just doesn't seem to be enough. It far surpasses that particular distance...my love for you is immeasurable.  You, in your short five years, have touched the lives of so many. And I can say with pure certainty that you will continue to touch many more lives. We are all better for knowing you. You battle the unknown every day and you are ALWAYS smiling. I knew...

Before my husband was my husband, my son was diagnosed with Autism. I'm sure all of you reading this already know that. I do not hide it and I do not mask it. We'd only been dating for about seven months. Well "Diagnosis Day" as it's now known (8/5/13), I gave him an out. I said that I couldn't promise him everything would be okay. I couldn't promise that Noah would grow up and function on his own and move out and get a job. But I definitely couldn't promise that he wouldn't. Not my finest moment, I admit. He said and I quote, "I'm not going anywhere." What a testament to how a real man should act. What did I do to deserve this man? This man that has promised to stand beside me and help mold this tiny little guy into the best big guy he can be. No motives. No hidden agendas. Just love. You should see the way that little guy looks at him. Joy. The word pure comes to mind. Noah's feelings are pure. No drama. No manipulation. Just...

There's a quote in one of my clinic manager's offices that reads, “Sometimes your life is defined by a single moment. Let it be today .”  I know many people will choose the day they were married or the day a child was born and while those days hold a place in my heart so special that anything else just seems insignificant. But a DEFINING moment. A moment that decides your fate as a human being. Well, that moment I remember perfectly... I was more nervous than the day I got married (either time) or when I actually gave birth to Noah. More anxious. More anything really. Emotions were high and it was almost like a dream. An alternate reality really. But anyway, on with the moment. August 5, 2012. It was hot. And I don't mean "wow, I'm sweating." I mean wet shirt, hair up, LORD HAVE MERCY hot. August in Tennessee, there's really nothing but hot. Noah was less than three weeks shy of three years old. He had a way of making all the sadness go away, like air dr...

I read a quote once saying that a mother is a person who does the work of twenty. For free. I find this statement to be insanely true. Somebody always has something for me to do, see, feel, etc., etc. I admit it! There are times when Noah just touches my arm and I full on break down. Thinking: if he brings me one more package of grits, I may lose my mind. So, I get up. I make the grits. He takes one look at them and runs away. Um, hello!? Seriously? And if that wasn't the hundredth time he's done this I'd be fine with it. As I sit here, Noah to my left playing games on his iPad, I can't help but laugh and forget about all that annoying stuff. I soak in this moment. His head on my knee occasionally looking up at me with these big blue sweet eyes and a big smile. That's it. That's why I'm here. This is my purpose. To raise this darling little boy. To guide his journey and teach him to function in society. There is not a breakthrough everyday. But, someho...