Posts Tagged ‘this too shall pass’

Every April, Autism Acceptance Month rolls around, and with it, I find myself hoping—hoping that this year, maybe things will be different. That maybe, just maybe, people will take a moment to listen, to learn, to be kind. That maybe we can combine awareness and genuine acceptance. My Hopes for Autism Acceptance Month This Year 1. That People Take the Opportunity to Learn Autism isn’t a one-size-fits-all diagnosis. It’s a spectrum, and no two autistic individuals are exactly the same. My biggest hope is that people take the time to…

A few days ago, our family of 6, was dropping off our middle son at his hockey practice. Usually, I stay in the car with the other three kids, while dad brings Sawyer in. But this practice was different and many of the families had gathered in the parking lot. When Cooper and our third son saw the excitement of kids playing in the somewhat deserted parking lot, squirting water bottles, running and laughing, they immediately demanded their release from our car. They both wanted to join in. Within seconds,…

My firstborn son’s autism diagnosis humbled me.Why you may ask?Because it was the first thing in my life that I couldn’t necessarily make better or easier or even change. See, I am a fixer. And I am a hard worker. Two traits that I pride myself on. And suddenly I was given a baby who didn’t develop typically. And never learned to talk. Or play. Or to understand this world.Autism they said.Severe nonverbal autism with a language impairment were the exact terms.He was three years old.His hair was course and…

I am not autistic, my son is. And I spend much of time trying to understand him so I can be a better advocate.How he thinks.How he processes.Why he likes certain things.Or doesn’t like others.And how I can help him understand this world that wasn’t really made for him.His brain often feels a bit confusing to me. Mysterious even. Intriguing at the same time. Autism. Blurring the edges a bit. Touching all of his parts. Yesterday, as we were driving together, Cooper saw a pool. And let me tell you…

I have four children. My oldest has autism. My second son is 12 years old. He is two years younger than his older brother. He grew up autism adjacent. A boy born into advocacy. He knows no other life. But he is also a little boy. Who still wonders and worries. He gets angry sometimes. And he cries too. And there are so many parts that he doesn’t understand. He’s asked me if he will be the older brother someday. He’s asked me if God is still building his brother’s…

When we are out in public, I don’t worry about how my autistic son will act. I don’t worry about his mannerisms. Or his uniqueness. Because I know exactly who he is and how he is going to behave. And that he is learning and growing. I know he will flap his arms in pure joy. I know he will run. And sit. And maybe feel the cool of the cement with his cheek. I know he will squeal. And hum. And laugh. I know he will wave to strangers…

Some kids never follow the beaten path…Whether it’s from birth or from a later date, some kids just don’t. They don’t meet milestones on time. They don’t follow the norm. They don’t do what every other kid is seemingly doing. My son Cooper is that way. Some people call him a free spirit. Some call him stubborn, even challenging. Autistic, disabled, special needs…all words thrown in. It’s hard sometimes. I won’t lie about that. Being different isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes bravery and courage and honesty with…

No one ever talks about autistic children growing up. In fact, when I used to worry and wonder about it, I would be almost scolded. Told to take it day by day, hour by hour. If I could do it over again, the beginning of our autism diagnosis, I wish I could have seen a glimpse of my boy. Today, he is 14 years old. An eighth grader. Next year he will be a freshman in high school. He still carries the same diagnosis. Severe, nonverbal autism. Not a lot…

I used to think the end game was speech. That was the goal and the dream for my nonverbal son. Words. Never ending questions. Conversations about trains and trucks. Of course I thought that. First time mom. A mom who knew nothing of the secret world of nonverbal. A mom who thought everybody talks. Eventually. ‘You need to prepare yourself for a life where Cooper never speaks.’ I’ll never forget that sentence. I was so mad. Angry. Livid. Crushed. I couldn’t imagine a world where my beautiful son didn’t speak.…

Until you have sat with your child whilst they have lost all control, and all you can do is hold them through it, feeling completely useless. Until you have had to hold your child’s hands to stop them from hurting themselves, your heart breaking, wishing you could take that pain away. Until you have watched your child go from five safe foods to two and prayed every night that it doesn’t go down to zero. Until you have stayed up all night watching your child fight to be able to…