Autistic Inspiration

Well friends, 2019 is almost done. What a year! This year was about self reflection and bettering myself. I definitely want to be a better wife, sister, daughter, friend, etc, etc, etc...but most of all I want to be a better MOM! I have always been the type of human to over process and over analyze everything. You name it. I overthink it. All of it. So naturally when I found out I was pregnant with Noah, I went right to wondering if I’d be a good mama, but all women do that. Then when we got our Autism diagnosis, it was a spiral! Will he talk? Will he... won’t he... so many thoughts. It’s amazing to me that I’m not as worried about him talking as he gets older. I'm more worried about if he's kind, if he's smiling, and if he's happy. It's so taboo, a person's ability to talk says nothing about his or her level of happiness, yet that is the question I'm asked most. "Do you think he'll ever talk?" It's never, "is he happy?' I know e...

I know what you're thinking. Does she even remember how to type? How long has it even been since she's published a blog? If you answered seventeen months, you're right! Insert excuses like kids, life, work, etc., etc., etc. I apologize. I haven't written in so long not because I have nothing to write about or no advances to report to you. I haven't written in so long because I haven't been INSPIRED to write. Well with the events in the last couple months, I've been INSPIRED to write. Let's see if I remember how to do this... Friends, I want to talk to you about something not so happy. Sad. Difficult. Heartbreaking. None of these words describe the severity of the hurt and pain in my heart. NONE. But life has a funny way of waking us up from a peaceful sleep and reminding us that it's not always happy. It's real and so damn hard. Wednesday, February 21 was fine. I got up and got ready for work like any other morning. Nothing significant. I hoo...

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...