My son, Your birthday is in 8 days. You have been counting down since mid December. You love your birthday. And you love being older. So much so that you are already telling people you are 9 years old. I lovingly correct you every time, reminding you that you are still my 8 year old. I also threaten you with a potion that will keep you little forever. But you have no time for that nonsense. You want to grow up. I want time to stop. Last night you snuggled…
To people who live outside of our world: I have a favor to ask you. When you see that child screaming uncontrollably on the floor of the supermarket. Stop. Pause. And… Before you blame the parents, Before you shake your head in disgust, Before you make snide comments about lack of discipline, And most importantly, before you judge the child, Stop. And know that… You may be seeing autism at its most challenging. It’s most confusing. A child who may simply have seen, heard, or smelled something new and not…
The comment read, ‘for some autism families, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.’ I thought about that comment all last night. And when my toddler woke up at midnight for a hug, and when I nursed my baby, and then again while I drank my coffee and watched the news. I thought back to our most challenging days when there was no apparent light at the end of the tunnel. Our autistic son didn’t sleep longer than 45 minutes at a time and we started every…
Once upon a time, over seven years ago, I conceived a little boy. I had an IUD. This was not the plan. That little boy was born, let’s call him Pickle. He was born quickly and without any assistance from any qualified professional. He was caught by his father, in an inflatable kiddie pool, in the master bathroom of his family’s house. This was definitely not the plan. But that was just the beginning of life unplanned… Pickles popped out to us, I held him in my arms and checked…
When I think of our son Nixon, who is five, and our daughter, Nora who is almost three, I think of them as who they are as a whole and the qualities each carries. I think of them first as my children, of all the memories of baby giggles, squishy faces over first bites of food, smiles with full cheeks, and watching as they explore the world around them. As human beings, we are a web of life experiences, impressions that others have of us, skills, and qualities that drive…
See that little one on the right? He is 3 years old and he’s my ‘too much’ kid. Too much energy. Too much noise. Too much joy. Too much love. I call him spirited. Some say feral. He goes a mile a minute and usually needs to be reminded to slow down. Like this morning I told him his pants were on inside out. And that he only had one sock on. He had no idea. But then again, he notices when his baby sister has a runny nose and…
This morning I was sitting on the couch drinking my coffee, soaking up some quiet time before my two littles woke up when my 3 year old came wandering in. He was dragging his blue blanket, the taggies in his hand. His hair was mussed, creases from his pillow still on his cheeks. He saw me, smiled, and immediately climbed up me and the chair and wiggled his little body next to me to make room. This is how every day starts. We snuggle. At least once he will whisper…
My son, This morning you happily went to school. That sentence right there. I felt the tears pooling in my eyes as I typed it just seconds ago. Happily. Went. School. At 6 AM you used your words to say…’SS-OO-LL.’ You held up one finger to remind me that it’s Friday and you have one day of school. Then two days with mom and dad. You put your own shoes on, brought me your coat, gathered up your treasures, picked up your backpack, and waited calmly by the door. It…
I imagine it’s different for the dads. The dads like my husband. Last night I sat in the bleachers of a cold hockey rink watching my middle son play hockey. I glanced back behind me and took note of all the dads standing in a row. My husband was sandwiched in-between a group of 5 or so men. A snapshot out of the suburbia playbook. They all shared a striking resemblance. Black jackets. Black facemasks. All wearing hats. We are in the stage of life I suppose. Our peers are…
Sometimes I will be sitting in my living room, or taking a shower, or driving in my car, and all of a sudden feel a crippling fear. It will come out of nowhere almost consuming my thoughts. Paralyzing me. I will feel it so strongly that I will clutch my stomach or bring my hand to my head, as if trying to wipe away the worry. Cooper. My son. I’ll see a flash of his future. A glimpse twenty years from now. It’s not fear of the diagnosis. Or the…
