Posts by Kate Swenson
I Don’t Want to Fight Anymore
Every morning I wake up to messages from people. Most are well-meaning. Many are kind. A few are awful. Some are bizarre. And some, tell me how to raise my son. And how I’m doing it wrong. They tell me what I should be doing, how I can do it better, and what I can and cannot say about him. I’ve gathered a list of what I cannot say. I cannot say he has autism. Or is autistic. I can’t say he is nonverbal or nonspeaking. I can’t say he…
Read MoreThe World is a Better Place Because He is in It
This is baby Harbor. The third baby. The third boy. The third little thief of sleep and sanity. He turned 3 years old in October. He is kicking soccer balls, negotiating in full sentences, eating with a fork, playing hockey and incredibly curious. Of all three of my boys, he is the busiest. He wants to know how things work. Like the toilet. And Kleenex boxes. And mud puddles. He has the biggest personality. And he wants to be grown up. With every food he eats he lets me know…
Read MoreThankful for this Silence
My sweet boy, We just got back from a car ride. We do that sometimes. You and me. We used to ride around to help you calm down. A much-needed break for both of us to reset. Now we drive around and hunt for trains. Not a lot has changed over the years except now you are eleven. And you can buckle your own seatbelt. A skill we worked on for years. A skill that you are incredibly proud of. Every time we get in the car, I pause and…
Read MoreThe First Real Hug
My son was 11 years old the first time he hugged me back. Like really hugged me back. I know the exact date because it happened three days ago. I had been gone for a few hours. Running errands. When I came in he wasn’t at the door where he usually waits for me. Instead, he was in a different room. When I saw him, he waved me over by holding both arms up and outright and saying my name. MMM-AW-MMM. He looked at me as if he hadn’t seen…
Read MoreBecoming the Parent Your Child Needs
We don’t blend in, this kid and me. Not that we ever did, but I’ll admit when he was smaller it was easier. We got by with the graces people bestow on toddlers and energetic kindergarteners. But 11. Well, 11 is a whole different story. A tween. Eleven is four feet, eight inches tall. Eleven is feet that can slip my shoes on to run out the door. Eleven is shared sweatshirts with mom. T-shirts sometimes too. Eleven is big and loud and noticeable. Because eleven is a boy. A…
Read MoreThis too Shall Pass
This too shall pass. There is a saying that is said at one time or another to every parent. This too shall pass. I remember being told those words as I held each of my newborns, exhausted from cluster feeding and lack of sleep. Again during the never ending messes that kids make. During potty training woes and tantrums over blue cups and the wrong shoes. And I guess in most cases it’s true right? The hard moments do pass. Usually. Babies start sleeping. Messes stop. Little humans learn to…
Read MoreTwo Brothers
This picture. The older brother watching the younger brother play goalie. Probably seems like nothing special. But it is. It’s hugely special. It’s years of hard work and practice. It’s deep breaths and waiting patiently. It’s noise and sound and cold. It’s also a family, all together, watching a hockey game. I don’t know a lot about autism. I am no expert. I can’t tell you the mysteries of my son for sure. Nor can I always tell you they why or the how. But I can tell you, that…
Read MoreShades of Grey
I never gave much thought to social norms before I had my son Cooper. Although I do remember a college professor speaking about them and advising each of us to stand backwards in an elevator and watch people squirm. Besides that though, I guess I have just always done them so they rarely cross my mind. That is until autism. My sweet boy is 11. He has blonde hair that is coarse like straw and ruddy cheeks, and he is entirely himself in every way. He doesn’t know how to…
Read MoreThey Orbit Around Each Other
There is 8 years between these two. 11 and 3. The little brother and the big brother. I know the facts. The little ones spoken language passed up his older brother’s years ago. He has a hundred words. He uses full sentences. When the younger one leaves home, Cooper will be 26 years old. A grown man. The younger one doesn’t know what autism is although we celebrate and speak openly about it daily. He does know that his old brother doesn’t talk though. He asks about it almost weekly…
Read MoreI Don’t Need Words
My family visited my dad last week. With covid precautions, it’s been quite some time since we’ve seen him. As I sat with him, and the boys destroyed his house as grandchild do, I found myself thinking back. Nearly three years ago, my stepmom lost her battle with pancreatic cancer. The night before we lost her, I was driving my dad back to his house, from the nursing home where she would spend her last days. It was nearing midnight. He was exhausted, close to 80 himself. He needed to…
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