Hope, Shifting

Hope: to cherish a desire with anticipation, to want something to happen or be true. –Merriam-Webster Dictionary In the beginning, I hoped he would outgrow it.  I hoped he would sleep through night at least once, and manage cereal from a spoon, and for the love of all things holy and good, stop shrieking.  I hoped he’d learn to read, and understand fractions, and figure out how to eat his food without rolling it around in his fingers.  I especially hoped he’d stop the rolling thing when we had spaghetti and…

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Remember Today

Dear Mama, Do me a favor, and remember every detail of this day—all of the words, sights, and sounds. Remember the tone of the doctor’s voice, and the way the receptionist smiled. Remember the way your heart hammered in your ribcage when you first heard the sentence. We believe it is Autism Spectrum Disorder. It was raining the day my son Jack was diagnosed. The doctor was very gentle, and kind. He watched Jack whirl and spin around the small room and collapse in tears when he bumped his shin…

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Confessions of an Autism Mom

For as long as I can remember, I wished I had a crystal so I could see into the future with my son Jack and his autism. I hated when people said time would tell. Or to relax, it would all work out for the best. I wanted to know it for myself. Since the day Jack was diagnosed, I was always racing against the clock. I wanted to know when he would speak to me in full sentences, and if he would learn to potty train, and the night…

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What I Want You To Know

I stood at the stove the other day, stirring some soup I’d made from leftover Easter ham. My son Jack sat at the counter, reading the back of a DVD. It was a warm day, and the kitchen was bright with late-afternoon sun. If you were to look in our window, you’d probably think we were an ordinary mother and son, enjoying some quiet time before dinner. But things are rarely as they seem. Are we imposters? No, not exactly. We are simply trying to play an unexpected role—me the…

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Sometimes, We Argue

Hey buddy, I am sorry you heard Daddy and I argue tonight. I know it’s scary. But sometimes, people disagree. No, no one is getting a divorce. I promise. I have known your father since I was nineteen years old. Yes, that’s right, back in 1994. We went to the same college, but we actually met in a restaurant, where we both worked. It was the end of August, right before classes started. No, I don’t remember what I had for lunch that afternoon. No, I can’t remember what day…

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Here is Me

Here is me. I am Jack. Here is me, and here is my autism. See, I am a boy and a diagnosis tangled together like so many vines climbing a tree. I am the rustle of paperwork, and small white pills in a vial. I am honesty, and tenacity, and a body in motion. I am a boy trying to hide. I am downcast eyes. And a hopeful heart. I am repetitive behavior. And special meetings in an overheated conference room. I am letters on paper—a statistic., a number, a…

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How to Stay Sane

Sometimes I stand before people and I say stuff and then they ask me questions. How do you keep you marriage together with the stress of raising a child with autism? How can I get my son to stop biting/hitting/screaming/chewing/running? How is it you are so stunningly beautiful and well-dressed? Actually, I’ve never been asked that last question. I admit this to you in the spirit of full disclosure. When my son Jack was a little guy, throwing enormous fits and staying up all night and generally wreaking havoc on…

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