How was your summer? It's hard for me to believe we are entering a new season and that the carefree days of summer are gone for another year. I was reflecting about how I spent my summer days, and it suddenly hit me...this was the first summer in forever that I was able to spend some quality time with each of our six children and their families. In June, I was able to travel to Michigan and see Ted and Lily. Laura drove up to Michigan while I was there, and I got to spend fun time with her and her children (my grandchildren!) And in July, when I attended the life-changing She Speaks conference in North Carolina, Tim and his family drove up from South Carolina and we had a grand Sunday afternoon visit...it beat a Sunday afternoon nap hands down! Just recently I was able to visit with Tony in Mobile, just before Elise and I took off for Chicago. And then I got to see Laura and Ted once again before heading back to Houston. I have lots of good memories to savor!
That leads me to the story I want to share with you. It happened this summer during one of my visits with the grandkids. It was the highlight of my summer and a memory that I will always cherish. As many of you know, our son David has Asperger's syndrome which is on the Autism spectrum. Many times through the years, people have said, "You should write a book about all your experiences with David." I think that, while that would be a worthwhile project, I would never be able to do it. It is very difficult for me to share all the sadness that this disability has brought to my heart. I don't like to recall the heartbreak that I have experienced as I have watched David struggle with life. And while I am so pleased with all the progress he has made, and continues to make, my heart is too raw from the deep, deep pain that we have gone through. The inability of friends and professionals to really understand the ramifications of his disability have caused much frustration and loneliness. Much of that is in our past, but to try to recall our experiences and write them down is too overwhelming for me at this time.
Someone once wrote that when you have a child that is sick or hurt, people are empathetic. They ask questions, they want to help. When you have a child with a disability, people stare. They don't make eye contact. They don't ask questions (because of their discomfort) and their silence is easily misinterpreted as ambivalence.
I've said all that backgroung information as a "lead-in" to my special memory. Our little five year old grandson has autism. He is non-verbal. He often lives in his own little world. This summer, while I was in Michigan, I was able to spend an afternoon with "Little Bill" (he's named after his Grandpa!). Oh, the changes I saw in this little guy! He is starting to communicate, he is eating more food, he is now able to sit at the table for meals, he is starting to dress himself, and he loved to have me tickle his toes! While I was playing with him, he darted upstairs to find his toys. By time I reached the top stair, he had very neatly placed his alphabet letter blocks on the step. I couldn't believe my eyes! Bill had taken his blocks and spelled G_R_A_M_A. I wept. Those tears of joy felt so wonderfully delicious!!! Bill has just started kindergarten and I can't wait to see what he will learn in the next few months.
Autism has it's sad moments, but it has wonderfully rewarding times as well. Bill and I feel blessed to have David (and Little Bill), to be able to work through his struggles with him, to see a bit of life from his perspective; it's life-changing.
For those of you that have not experienced autism, the reading below might convey to you some of the heartache. Maybe it will allow you to be a friend to those that struggle, to be the one that shows concern, the one that doesn't treat a friend's child as if they don't exist.
There is a child I want you to know. The child is my child. My child looks like your child, normal and perfect in every way. My child, however, has an invisible disability. I'm sure you've seen my child. My child is the one who is never invited to birthday parties. My child is the child who has never been over to your house to play with your child. My child is the one who sits alone on the swing at the playground. My child is the one who watches other children play together. My child wants to play with your child, but is told "no" because my child acts differently than your child. My child's disability makes my child extremely naive, something you don't find in children my child's age. Small children are attracted to my child because of my child's patience with them. My child is told social stories to help make my child more like yours. The problem is that my child needs your child to help learn social skills. Unfortunately, this can't happen because your child wants nothing to do with my child. YOUR child, I'm sure, was taught at an early age to be kind to physically disabled people. With a certain amount of sympathy and good manners, they accept those who are afflicted. I wish you could teach your child that some disabilities are NOT obvious. My child is the one that teachers single out as the "trouble maker", when infact my child is over stimulated by sights, sounds, smells etc. and has adverse reactions to these stimulants by "acting out". My child is bullied every single day, and the school just turns away, afterall, it's just the "trouble maker", he probably deserves it. My child does not want sympathy, my child just wants friends. My child has autism.
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