Overall, it has been a great month. However, today I hit a roadblock on this autism journey. I figured if maybe I channel my energy into writing, then I may be able to slowly move up and over the roadblock.
So, here I go......FUAutism! FU for everything you are and everything you stand for. I despise you today. I despise the communication challenges that you give my son. I despise the social/emotional challenges you give my son. I despise your misunderstanding of language. I despise your flapping, your scripting, your repetitive behaviors, your jumping, and your constant demand from sensory input. FU Autism!
I didn't tag a family member today to watch Gavin. I attempted to strip the boys' beds and remake them. I figured I could watch Gavin, give everyone a break, and accomplish something. In the process, Gavin climbed up onto the window sill and fell. His screaming and pain were unbearable. I despise that he couldn't tell me what hurt. I despise that he was shaking and screaming uncontrollably. I despise that everyone in the family started yelling at each other and blaming each other for not watching Gavin. FU Autism!
I despise the fact that I awoke with another panic attack last night. I despise that I cried myself to sleep thinking of my Gavin never being invited to a friend's birthday party. I despise the constant visuals and the structured routine. I despise always having to give my son a warning for a transition to avoid a long and unbearable meltdown. FU Autism!
At mass today, I looked over at my oldest son, William, and wondered when was the last time I had some one on one quality time with him. I despise that you consume so much of my time. I despise that your needs have to be met first before all others. FU Autism!
I despise that I have to over plan all family functions. Landon's First Communion is approaching, I despise that any change in routine is so incredibly difficult for you. That instead of enjoying and being able to relax on Landon's special day, I will be wondering if your needs are being met. If you can handle the change in routine. I despise how difficult school vacations can be. I despise your constant need for routine. I despise strangers staring. FU Autism!
Driving to Walmart today, Landon's booster seat was moved. I despise the fact that Gavin screamed the entire drive to Walmart because he couldn't make sense of this. I despise that I had to continuously reinforce him that it was going to be ok. I despise that the first thing Gavin did when we got to Walmart was move the booster seat to where it had to be for him to make sense of it. FU Autsim!
I despise at how tired you make me. I despise the fact that I can't remember the last time I slept through the night. I despise the fact that you never rest. FU Autism!
I despise that I still grieve. I despise that sometimes I lay awake at night and wonder. Wonder what the future with autism holds. Wonder if Gavin will hit a plateau and stop making progress. I despise the doubts you give me. The continuous questioning if I am doing the right thing. FU Autism!
I am far from being a hero, I am far from being inspirational. I am a mother who is trying to unlock her baby's mind! I despise not having that key. FU Autism!
I despise roadblocks and behavior hurdles. I despise that I just want to lock myself in the bathroom and cry until no tears are left. I despise that William and Landon sometimes see my grief through tears. FU Autism!
That damn Brick hit me today. It caused a Roadblock. I am sure once I finish typing this I will have myself a long overdue cry and not look back. I will slowly rise, lift my head high, pick up my cross, and crawl over the Roadblock hand in hand with Autism.
Still searching for that key,
Paula
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
CROSSING REALITY
There is so much to update about that I have a feeling that this may be a very long blog. First, we had our very first fundraiser as a foundation. Our first 5K was held this past weekend at the Lowell Elks. I have one word to describe it.......WOW! So many people came out to support us by running, walking, donating raffle items, donating water and bananas, making generous donations, purchasing raffle tickets, and volunteering their time. It was a successful and memorable first event. We will be posting on the foundation's website how the funds will be allocated. One thing I encountered while beginning this foundation is generosity. The generosity of people has been overwhelming. Phil and I have been in awe of how kind and generous people have been. It is making us strive to be better people. The week prior to the 5K, the school that Gavin attends and I teach at, held its first annual Autism Awareness Week. I have one word to describe this week leading up to the 5K......AMAZING! This was able to happen due to the support of the Principal, Matt Stahl, Assistant Principal, Kim Clements, the teachers, and our BCBA, Christine. I sat down with the two PDD teachers, Melissa and Lynne, and planned and organized various activities that the teachers could complete with their students. The activities helped to spread awareness by giving the students a glimpse into an autistic child's mind. Some of the activities included having the students wear safety goggles covered in Vaseline and being asked to write their name or a sentence. Participating in a read aloud which incorporated children's story books about autism, stringing beads while wearing gardening gloves, and participating in relay races while wearing binoculars backwards. The final day consisted of all staff and students wearing blue. Many teachers had autism shirts on that read "Autism, Support, Educate, Advocate" Thank you to the assistant principal, Kim, and several teachers for creating the shirts. We also had an all school assembly where the entire school watched a kid friendly video of my oldest son, William, talking about what he knows about autism. We then had a question and answer session. The students had some great questions. William and Landon stood in front of the entire school and helped me answer the questions. What an amazing thing that the Pawtucketville Memorial Elementary School did! Thank you to all the staff and students!! This autism journey is becoming more bearable by having such supportive people behind us to encourage us, motivate us, and lift us up when we are feeling down. Thank you also to Kathy Marandola. Kathy is a colleague of mine who was also the 5K race director. Our first annual 5K was flawless! She made sure that every detail was covered. A lot of work went into planning this event, and I will be forever grateful to Kathy for volunteering her time and talents. We did have one glitch. My dog got sprayed by a skunk the Wednesday morning before the race. It wouldn't have been a big deal, however, we had just picked up 240 race shirts. The race shirts were boxed in the living room. My dog took a full face spray. Ran into the house soaking wet and reeking of skunk. She proceeded to run through the entire house. Phil and I attempted to get the 5K shirts out as soon as possible. However, once I delivered them to school, Kathy opened the boxes and found a very strong skunk odor. Thank goodness we were able to air the shirts out. Thank you to the Pawtucketville staff who willingly took the more smelly shirts for their own. Again, grateful for their flexibility and understanding.
We are currently facing a new behavior hurdle at home with Gavin. He likes to script that he is leaving. He will take a chair and slide it up to where the keys are hanging. Gavin will then climb up onto the chair and take a set of keys. His next step will be to put on a pair of shoes (usually Landon's crocks), and then unlock the door and proceed to walk out. He has gone so far as to walk down the front stairs and the walkway to the driveway. We have to try to redirect Gavin so as to not call any attention to his behavior. The more attention he gets for negative behavior, the more he does it. Due to this new behavior hurdle we also have to make sure he is supervised 24:7. So, we have made a game into it. A good old game of tag. We work as a team. Whom ever gets tagged, it is their shift to watch Gavin. William and Landon are really good about taking their watch shift carefully. This really helps if I have cleaning to do, beds to strip and make, or just to even take a shower. Another important thing I have learned on this journey is how very important team work is. Phil and I couldn't do it alone. We appreciate all the support, and help we get. Gavin is also having some major meltdowns at home. He becomes easily frustrated, and is not able to communicate his frustration. I have been showing him pictures of feeling cards. I often take out the mad one and reinforce him to say, "I am mad!" I noticed he has also started banging his head and biting things out of frustration. More new behavior hurdles. I am guessing that he has been out of school for the week, and this does throw him off. The important thing is reminding his siblings to ignore, ignore, ignore. Which is difficult to do sometimes.
I was reflecting this week how I remember when each of my boys went through the "toddler stage" where they were into everything. How we had to toddler proof the house and watch them 24:7 for fear of them getting hurt. I was thinking about how exhausted I was during that toddler stage, and was a little more relaxed when they outgrew it. Don't get me wrong, I do miss their different toddler stages. However, I was thinking this week that Gavin may never outgrow his toddler stage. Instead of it being called a toddler stage it is now called Autism. I have come to the realization that he may need to be supervised 24:7, that I will always be exhausted, and that this is my reality now.
Gavin had his six month check up with his Developmental Pediatrician, Dr. Rappaport at Children's Hospital. We haven't seen Dr. Rappaport since August. Gavin was just beginning school then. We sat in traffic for an hour and forty minutes yesterday to get there, however, Phil and I commented how it is always worth it. We adore his Developmental Pedi. He is great with Gavin. Asks us a lot of questions and is very observant of our boy. He was impressed that Gavin is already fully potty trained even at night. He inquired as to how we accomplished this. We told him that consistency between school and home were important. He didn't like being wet, so that helped also. Dr. Rappaport is recommending more ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) therapy for home. Especially during the summer months. Phil and I both agree that this would be crucial to his development. We are also looking into getting him additional speech and language and occupational therapy during the summer months. This will help him continue to make progress. Dr. Rappaport asked us about his stereotypical behaviors. I looked at him and began to rattle them off one after another (his repetitive behaviors, scripting, flapping, stimming). During the car ride home I was thinking how far we have come. This is what I realized. I am no longer in the denial stage of my son's autism. I am now in the acceptance stage. Believe me, I still grieve, and I am still anxious about what the future holds. But I have come to accept Autism. Some days I embrace it, some days I curse it, some days I want it. I want to carry the burden for my son. I want him to have a typically developing life. What I would give or do to take the burden from him.
The night before the appt, I slept horribly. I awoke in the middle of the night with what I thought was heartburn. However, it was anxiety. The anxiety hit me out of no where and led to a panic attack. I blamed it on lack of sleep. I realized later after his appointment that is was due to his upcoming appointment. I was extremely anxious about it. However, I could not pinpoint why? Crawling into bed last night is when I realized it. I took another step closer to meeting autism face to face. I knew Dr. Rappaport was not going to tell me that my son is cured. My son will never be cured. He is autistic. He has autism. I have stepped into a world of autism reality. Where ABA, scripting, flapping, stimming, speech, OT, and PECS are all familiar words in my house, where my son will never outgrow his Autism, where my entire family is working hard as a team to unlock his mind. However, my world of autism reality also consists of generosity, kindness, understanding, encouragement, support, and acceptance. My son may have autism, but my family has been blessed. We will learn lessons about life, we will face mountains together, and we will work as a team.
Lastly, I want to once again say thank you. Thank you to everyone who came out to support the foundation. Thank you to all the runners, walkers, people who donated, people who sent us a message saying they were thinking of us. Thank you to my colleagues at the Pawtucketville Memorial Elementary School. Thank you to my colleagues at the Reilly Elementary School. You guys have given me a gift of support and encouragement. These gifts are irreplaceable. Thank you to my friends. Thank you to my family. Team work and love keep us strong. Also, thank you to Mr. Durkin. Your heartfelt letter and Sacred Heart Badge are priceless. I read your letter once a day, and carry the Badge with me always. As you said in your letter that a priest once told you that God only gives those crosses that have the backs to carry it. I am blessed that my family, friends, and colleagues give me the strength to carry the heavy load. Some days when I am feeling weak, I know I can count on one of them to carry the cross for a little while until I get my bearings.
Still searching for that key,
Paula
We are currently facing a new behavior hurdle at home with Gavin. He likes to script that he is leaving. He will take a chair and slide it up to where the keys are hanging. Gavin will then climb up onto the chair and take a set of keys. His next step will be to put on a pair of shoes (usually Landon's crocks), and then unlock the door and proceed to walk out. He has gone so far as to walk down the front stairs and the walkway to the driveway. We have to try to redirect Gavin so as to not call any attention to his behavior. The more attention he gets for negative behavior, the more he does it. Due to this new behavior hurdle we also have to make sure he is supervised 24:7. So, we have made a game into it. A good old game of tag. We work as a team. Whom ever gets tagged, it is their shift to watch Gavin. William and Landon are really good about taking their watch shift carefully. This really helps if I have cleaning to do, beds to strip and make, or just to even take a shower. Another important thing I have learned on this journey is how very important team work is. Phil and I couldn't do it alone. We appreciate all the support, and help we get. Gavin is also having some major meltdowns at home. He becomes easily frustrated, and is not able to communicate his frustration. I have been showing him pictures of feeling cards. I often take out the mad one and reinforce him to say, "I am mad!" I noticed he has also started banging his head and biting things out of frustration. More new behavior hurdles. I am guessing that he has been out of school for the week, and this does throw him off. The important thing is reminding his siblings to ignore, ignore, ignore. Which is difficult to do sometimes.
I was reflecting this week how I remember when each of my boys went through the "toddler stage" where they were into everything. How we had to toddler proof the house and watch them 24:7 for fear of them getting hurt. I was thinking about how exhausted I was during that toddler stage, and was a little more relaxed when they outgrew it. Don't get me wrong, I do miss their different toddler stages. However, I was thinking this week that Gavin may never outgrow his toddler stage. Instead of it being called a toddler stage it is now called Autism. I have come to the realization that he may need to be supervised 24:7, that I will always be exhausted, and that this is my reality now.
Gavin had his six month check up with his Developmental Pediatrician, Dr. Rappaport at Children's Hospital. We haven't seen Dr. Rappaport since August. Gavin was just beginning school then. We sat in traffic for an hour and forty minutes yesterday to get there, however, Phil and I commented how it is always worth it. We adore his Developmental Pedi. He is great with Gavin. Asks us a lot of questions and is very observant of our boy. He was impressed that Gavin is already fully potty trained even at night. He inquired as to how we accomplished this. We told him that consistency between school and home were important. He didn't like being wet, so that helped also. Dr. Rappaport is recommending more ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) therapy for home. Especially during the summer months. Phil and I both agree that this would be crucial to his development. We are also looking into getting him additional speech and language and occupational therapy during the summer months. This will help him continue to make progress. Dr. Rappaport asked us about his stereotypical behaviors. I looked at him and began to rattle them off one after another (his repetitive behaviors, scripting, flapping, stimming). During the car ride home I was thinking how far we have come. This is what I realized. I am no longer in the denial stage of my son's autism. I am now in the acceptance stage. Believe me, I still grieve, and I am still anxious about what the future holds. But I have come to accept Autism. Some days I embrace it, some days I curse it, some days I want it. I want to carry the burden for my son. I want him to have a typically developing life. What I would give or do to take the burden from him.
The night before the appt, I slept horribly. I awoke in the middle of the night with what I thought was heartburn. However, it was anxiety. The anxiety hit me out of no where and led to a panic attack. I blamed it on lack of sleep. I realized later after his appointment that is was due to his upcoming appointment. I was extremely anxious about it. However, I could not pinpoint why? Crawling into bed last night is when I realized it. I took another step closer to meeting autism face to face. I knew Dr. Rappaport was not going to tell me that my son is cured. My son will never be cured. He is autistic. He has autism. I have stepped into a world of autism reality. Where ABA, scripting, flapping, stimming, speech, OT, and PECS are all familiar words in my house, where my son will never outgrow his Autism, where my entire family is working hard as a team to unlock his mind. However, my world of autism reality also consists of generosity, kindness, understanding, encouragement, support, and acceptance. My son may have autism, but my family has been blessed. We will learn lessons about life, we will face mountains together, and we will work as a team.
Lastly, I want to once again say thank you. Thank you to everyone who came out to support the foundation. Thank you to all the runners, walkers, people who donated, people who sent us a message saying they were thinking of us. Thank you to my colleagues at the Pawtucketville Memorial Elementary School. Thank you to my colleagues at the Reilly Elementary School. You guys have given me a gift of support and encouragement. These gifts are irreplaceable. Thank you to my friends. Thank you to my family. Team work and love keep us strong. Also, thank you to Mr. Durkin. Your heartfelt letter and Sacred Heart Badge are priceless. I read your letter once a day, and carry the Badge with me always. As you said in your letter that a priest once told you that God only gives those crosses that have the backs to carry it. I am blessed that my family, friends, and colleagues give me the strength to carry the heavy load. Some days when I am feeling weak, I know I can count on one of them to carry the cross for a little while until I get my bearings.
Still searching for that key,
Paula
Monday, April 2, 2012
A letter to Autism
Dear Autism,
Seeing this is Autism Awareness Day, a day that we shine a light on you, a day that we light you up blue, I have decided to take a moment to reflect upon you. You entered my life on June 18, 2010. My son was just about to turn two. Some days it feels like yesterday when I faced you like a deer in head lights. Other days it feels like years ago. I remember sitting in a small room, holding a thirteen page report in one hand, and Phil's hand in the other. I remember the doctors looking at us with such heartwarming smiles. I was sure that they would tell us that Gavin had a communication delay. I was sure that they would even tell me to stop treating him like the baby of the family, and he would be just fine. I was so sure of it, that when the words, "Gavin is autistic" was said, it took a moment to catch my bearings. You see, you stopped my world on June 18, 2010. The world stopped for that moment. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I began tapping my foot and held Phil's hand even harder. I looked at the doctors and asked them to repeat themselves. I asked them if they were sure. The doctors replied, "You're son is autistic." I asked them if he had PDD? Again, they replied, "Gavin has autism." I looked down at the report I was holding. I quickly scanned it. Clearly it couldn't be in writing. There it was, "Gavin is autistic." At that moment my world changed. All my hopes and dreams for my third son, my youngest, my Gavin, were shattered. The tears came, and they didn't stop. The doctor handed me a box of tissues. The tears flowed so freely that I felt my body wanting to convulse. My brain shut off. Phil did all of the questioning. I didn't hear any words after that. I just sat, wiped my tears, and attempted to stop the convulsions. The doctor finally walked us to the check out area. She asked the social worked to get us their "autism packet". I stood silently. I remember Phil did all the talking, I just stood there. The social worker handed us a large packet and told us that she would be in touch. I just stood there. I did not want to leave. I wanted to stay there forever.
I remember the car ride home was very quiet. My tears continued to flow, and my body continued to convulse. How would I tell his siblings? How would I explain autism to them? Would my son ever talk? What if I die never hearing his voice? How will I teach him? Why my son? Why me? Why us? I remember asking Phil through tears what was going to happen to our boy. How will we do this? Phil squeezed my hand tighter and told me that we will be ok. Gavin will be ok. We will do what ever it takes for all our kids. Autism will not defeat us. It will encourage us.
I called my sister on the way home. I told her the news. The tears would not stop. She asked what she could do. I asked her to please call the rest of the family. I just couldn't do it. I remember asking her to tell them to please not give advice. All we needed was love and support. Just love and support is all we need.
Upon returning home, we gathered all the kids into the boys bedroom. We sat together and held hands. The boys asked me why I had been crying. My response was, "Gavin has autism." They were full of questions but the one that I clearly remember is what William said. "Is that why Gavin doesn't talk?" My response was, "Yes, William. That is why, and our job now is to teach him how to talk. No matter what it takes, we will get him to talk." I then told the boys that God doesn't give just anyone an autistic sibling. He entrusted him to you. It is a big job, and he knew you were special enough to do it.
I grieved for months. The grief would some days hit me like a freight train. I hid my tears well, I hid my fears well, I grieved in silence. I remember the grief was so painful some days that I would have to tell myself to breathe so that I wouldn't hyperventilate. Autism, all your information was so overwhelming. I contacted my friend, Christine. She was a godsend. She informed me of what places to contact, and where to begin. Christine, you helped me take that first step to meet autism face to face. For that I will be forever grateful.
I would get up with Gavin each morning and leave our Golden Retriever, Lillie, outside. Every morning Lillie would come back in. I would tell her to, "sit" and then give her a bone. I remember one August morning. We let Lillie outside. She came in. Gavin looked at her and said, "SIT!" His first word. That was my second step to meet you face to face, Autism. August, 2010, I was given hope. Hope that I would continue to hear my boy's voice!
Next came the countless hours of ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis), speech, OT, and services from a developmental specialist. Countless hours that consisted of working, learning, and most of all teaching my boy how to talk, socialize, and play. I continued to take more and more steps to meet you face to face. Some of those meetings were painful, and some of those meetings were joyful.
December, 2010, brought a gift. I walked into a room, Gavin looked at me and said, "Mama." Another step closer to facing you. That was the moment when I knew everything was going to be ok. I got to hear my boy call my name.
As I sit here today and reflect back to June, 2010, I see a new beginning. I see hope. I see laughter. I see joy. Each new encounter with you, Autism, brings me a little more understanding. I am not afraid to continue to meet you face to face. There are still some days where you bring me sadness and grief. There are still some days where I feel like you robbed me, you robbed my family, you robbed my boy. There are still some days where I honestly think that God got the wrong address and should have sent you to someone else. However, those days are beginning to be outnumbered. They are outnumbered by the days where my son's voice makes me smile, the days where his smile lights up a room. The days where my boy sings me a song.
So today, Autism, I shine a light on you. I shine a light for all you have taught me since June, 2010. I have learned to not take things for granted. I have learned that it is the little things in life that really matter. Autism, you have taught me to never give up, that it is ok to be different, and that love and support are what matter the most. You have made my marriage stronger, you have made my kids more accepting of others. You have taught us patience. You have encouraged us to work harder and never give up. Autism, I thank you and honor you with blue.
Sincerely,
Paula
The Mother of an Autistic Son
Seeing this is Autism Awareness Day, a day that we shine a light on you, a day that we light you up blue, I have decided to take a moment to reflect upon you. You entered my life on June 18, 2010. My son was just about to turn two. Some days it feels like yesterday when I faced you like a deer in head lights. Other days it feels like years ago. I remember sitting in a small room, holding a thirteen page report in one hand, and Phil's hand in the other. I remember the doctors looking at us with such heartwarming smiles. I was sure that they would tell us that Gavin had a communication delay. I was sure that they would even tell me to stop treating him like the baby of the family, and he would be just fine. I was so sure of it, that when the words, "Gavin is autistic" was said, it took a moment to catch my bearings. You see, you stopped my world on June 18, 2010. The world stopped for that moment. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I began tapping my foot and held Phil's hand even harder. I looked at the doctors and asked them to repeat themselves. I asked them if they were sure. The doctors replied, "You're son is autistic." I asked them if he had PDD? Again, they replied, "Gavin has autism." I looked down at the report I was holding. I quickly scanned it. Clearly it couldn't be in writing. There it was, "Gavin is autistic." At that moment my world changed. All my hopes and dreams for my third son, my youngest, my Gavin, were shattered. The tears came, and they didn't stop. The doctor handed me a box of tissues. The tears flowed so freely that I felt my body wanting to convulse. My brain shut off. Phil did all of the questioning. I didn't hear any words after that. I just sat, wiped my tears, and attempted to stop the convulsions. The doctor finally walked us to the check out area. She asked the social worked to get us their "autism packet". I stood silently. I remember Phil did all the talking, I just stood there. The social worker handed us a large packet and told us that she would be in touch. I just stood there. I did not want to leave. I wanted to stay there forever.
I remember the car ride home was very quiet. My tears continued to flow, and my body continued to convulse. How would I tell his siblings? How would I explain autism to them? Would my son ever talk? What if I die never hearing his voice? How will I teach him? Why my son? Why me? Why us? I remember asking Phil through tears what was going to happen to our boy. How will we do this? Phil squeezed my hand tighter and told me that we will be ok. Gavin will be ok. We will do what ever it takes for all our kids. Autism will not defeat us. It will encourage us.
I called my sister on the way home. I told her the news. The tears would not stop. She asked what she could do. I asked her to please call the rest of the family. I just couldn't do it. I remember asking her to tell them to please not give advice. All we needed was love and support. Just love and support is all we need.
Upon returning home, we gathered all the kids into the boys bedroom. We sat together and held hands. The boys asked me why I had been crying. My response was, "Gavin has autism." They were full of questions but the one that I clearly remember is what William said. "Is that why Gavin doesn't talk?" My response was, "Yes, William. That is why, and our job now is to teach him how to talk. No matter what it takes, we will get him to talk." I then told the boys that God doesn't give just anyone an autistic sibling. He entrusted him to you. It is a big job, and he knew you were special enough to do it.
I grieved for months. The grief would some days hit me like a freight train. I hid my tears well, I hid my fears well, I grieved in silence. I remember the grief was so painful some days that I would have to tell myself to breathe so that I wouldn't hyperventilate. Autism, all your information was so overwhelming. I contacted my friend, Christine. She was a godsend. She informed me of what places to contact, and where to begin. Christine, you helped me take that first step to meet autism face to face. For that I will be forever grateful.
I would get up with Gavin each morning and leave our Golden Retriever, Lillie, outside. Every morning Lillie would come back in. I would tell her to, "sit" and then give her a bone. I remember one August morning. We let Lillie outside. She came in. Gavin looked at her and said, "SIT!" His first word. That was my second step to meet you face to face, Autism. August, 2010, I was given hope. Hope that I would continue to hear my boy's voice!
Next came the countless hours of ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis), speech, OT, and services from a developmental specialist. Countless hours that consisted of working, learning, and most of all teaching my boy how to talk, socialize, and play. I continued to take more and more steps to meet you face to face. Some of those meetings were painful, and some of those meetings were joyful.
December, 2010, brought a gift. I walked into a room, Gavin looked at me and said, "Mama." Another step closer to facing you. That was the moment when I knew everything was going to be ok. I got to hear my boy call my name.
As I sit here today and reflect back to June, 2010, I see a new beginning. I see hope. I see laughter. I see joy. Each new encounter with you, Autism, brings me a little more understanding. I am not afraid to continue to meet you face to face. There are still some days where you bring me sadness and grief. There are still some days where I feel like you robbed me, you robbed my family, you robbed my boy. There are still some days where I honestly think that God got the wrong address and should have sent you to someone else. However, those days are beginning to be outnumbered. They are outnumbered by the days where my son's voice makes me smile, the days where his smile lights up a room. The days where my boy sings me a song.
So today, Autism, I shine a light on you. I shine a light for all you have taught me since June, 2010. I have learned to not take things for granted. I have learned that it is the little things in life that really matter. Autism, you have taught me to never give up, that it is ok to be different, and that love and support are what matter the most. You have made my marriage stronger, you have made my kids more accepting of others. You have taught us patience. You have encouraged us to work harder and never give up. Autism, I thank you and honor you with blue.
Sincerely,
Paula
The Mother of an Autistic Son
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