Posts Tagged ‘special needs teen’
Someone I’m With has Autism
The other day I took my son Jack to the dermatologist. It was a routine visit, nothing out of the ordinary. I did what I always do when it comes to Jack and his appointments. Over the phone, I explained he has autism, and it might seem like he isn’t listening at first. He takes a while to answer questions. Also, he might jump around a little if he gets restless. On the drive to the office, I took Jack through a quick social story about wearing his mask, sitting in the…
Read MoreWhat Autism Brings Us
Hi. My name is Carrie. I have five kids, and my second son has autism. His name is Jack. He is sixteen years old. For me, autism brings a trifecta of hope, grief, and peace. Hope is the bundle of rocks I carry everywhere I go. Grief is the small box of feathers I let myself open every once in a while. And peace? Well, that is the long, jagged mountain I climb, clutching my bundle of hope and a box full of feathers. Jack and my firstborn, Joseph, are…
Read MoreThe Lessons He Teaches us
My husband and I work very hard to teach our son Jack practical life lessons. How to make breakfast, change a light bulb, feed the dog, get the mail—stuff like that. This isn’t always easy. It requires a lot of patience, and planning. You see, Jack has autism. He is sixteen. He doesn’t like lessons. He doesn’t quite comprehend things the same way other teenagers do. He needs step-by-step instructions, and a lot of cues. He is easily distracted by loud noises, or the looping track of ideas within his mind—what…
Read MoreI am a Forever Mother
All five of my kids have really peculiar teeth. Which is kind of ironic, seeing as my husband is a dentist. Missing laterals, crowding, odd bite patterns—we’ve got it all. My son Jack has what is called a class three underbite, which means his lower jaw comes out much further than it should. He’ll probably need to have a lot of teeth pulled. And there is a surgery to correct the whole thing. It is big and long and complicated, with a very difficult recovery. We could never put him…
Read MoreGood People
For almost two years now, my son Jack has wanted a job. He wanted to work. I still don’t know why he chose the place he did—a local pasta restaurant in the center of town. He went online to their website and researched the requirements. Carefully, he printed out the application. He sat at the kitchen counter and answered the questions about his age, birthdate, and previous experience. He asked if he was a US citizen. I assured him he was. They hired him. For over a year, he has…
Read MoreIt’s Time For A Change
I’m feeling conflicted and heartbroken for my autistic son’s future. As I’m getting dressed for work today, I noticed my sixteen year old son, Lawrence looking at all the headlines and stories in the news… My son then makes the comment, ‘I dislike cops.’ Wow. Talk about a feeling of confusion as I’m now wearing my uniform. I am a Corrections Office and a Field Training Officer. I’m also a single mom, doing my best to raise a developmentally disabled son that has huge communication issues. He is not aggressive. He…
Read MoreTo My Special Son as You Approach Adulthood
I cannot believe how quickly the last seventeen years has flown by. When I glance over at you, intently focused on the television screen with unshaven stubble presently on your face, I can vividly picture my adorable, chubby cheeked toddler. I remember every minute of each therapy session you tolerated multiple days a week like it was yesterday – always working extremely hard to overcome significant motor delays, never giving up on hitting those many milestones, at your own pace. Your ability to invent creative solutions for…
Read MoreHey You
Psst, hey. Look at me, I’m over here. Come close. I want to tell you something. You won’t win today. To be honest, I haven’t really noticed you in a while. I almost forgot about you. It seemed like the medicine was working and my son Jack was calmer and a little less agitated. Then, just last month, you returned with a vengeance—all ragged cuticles and sleepless nights. Anxiety. You would think I’d be used to you by now—that I could anticipate your next move, and figure out a solution,…
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