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To my son’s future caregiver… My son is 14 years old. When he was three he was diagnosed with severe nonverbal autism. We had no idea what the future held. And honestly, we weren’t told much good. When he was 8, I made the decision to walk away from the negativity. The sad predictions. And the people who didn’t believe in him. Or see his strengths. It was the best decision I’ve ever made. His favorite thing to do is to decorate for Christmas. He will help for a bit.…
That elf could’ve come to life, danced on Jesse’s head, and he wouldn’t have cared.Most nights, I forgot to move it—not only because I’m lazy but also because he barely noticed its existence.
I’ve learned as I’ve aged that the biggest, most memorable moments of our lives, are often the ones we least expect.Of course a wedding, the birth of our babies, an anniversary, are the best.
Yesterday, I drove my middle son Sawyer to school. He typically rides the bus but he wanted to donate a handful of toys to the toy drive his school was holding so I drove him.‘The toys go to Children’s Hospital mom.’ He was adamant about bringing presents.
I have often called myself a member of the “sandwich generation.” But after a little research, I discovered that I am actually a member of the “club sandwich generation.”The term refers to the midlife generation being wedged between the needs of different family members: parents, children, and grandchildren.
When I share our autism story with professionals…teachers, therapists, doctors, nurses, I always say this sentence:Something you have said to a parent about their child, positive or negative, runs through their head on repeat.
Parents of kids with disabilities… What is the most difficult, yet important conversation you’ve had around your child’s needs? Maybe it was around medications. Or the decision to have more children. Or to let go of education and focus on daily living skills. For my husband and I, it was around forever. It was grappling with the thought that our son will live on this earth without us. It took us years to be able to sit down and rationally speak about it. In the beginning, I’d bring it up.…
I envisioned all the parties we would have with her friends from school and going to all of their parties just like her siblings did with all of their friends. However, that is not how Olivia's story goes.
College, engagements, first jobs, marriages, babies, these families we’ve all built. It was incredible to see all of us together in one place today.We started the afternoon together, Jackson my son with autism, and I branched off to find the train, and we ended the evening back up as our bakers dozen of thirteen.
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 thirteen. And you can buckle your own seatbelt. A skill we worked on for years. A skill that you are incredibly proud of.We still ride mostly in silence. When you were three the experts told…
From the very beginning, he’s always been drawn to it. As a newborn, baby Jesse was fussy, crying more often than not. But the moment I placed him in the bath, everything changed.
Many years ago, when I was new to the world of parenting a child with a disability, and even newer to sharing our story with the world, a young woman sent me an email about her life. She shared with me that she needed help to live and to bathe and to eat. She said she had physical disabilities and was unable to care for herself independently. She told me she felt like a burden to her family. She felt saddened that she made their life harder. She spoke of…
It may not get easier, and some things may not get better, but you have the power to create a world that works for your family. I wish someone would have told me that when my son was first diagnosed with autism.
To give him a magical life. Forever. Despite his age. Despite his size. And when his shoes are bigger than mine and when his dad shaves his face.To always surround him with people who love him. People who see him and adore him and greet him when they arrive and say goodbye when they leave.
When I became a parent, I had lots of dreams for my child.Most of my dreams revolved around sports: Little League baseball, peewee football, go-kart racing, bike riding, whatever he wanted to do.
When my son was two years old his daycare provider told me that he would never speak, make a friend, or ride a bike. She later went on to say he would never hit a baseball.
I just encountered a gentlemen with a disability in the airport. I would say he was in his fifties. I heard him coming. He was saying the most cheerful ‘hi’ to every person he passed. I noticed he was mostly being ignored. Which I guess isn’t all that uncommon. When a stranger says hi it’s probably common to ignore.
She may not have conversations with me, but in that moment, I know she needs me in some way, and those words give her whatever she is searching for in the quiet darkness of the night.
When my son was diagnosed with autism eleven years ago, I knew nothing of the diagnosis. Not a thing.I researched of course.I found Rain Man. And dark grainy videos on YouTube of individuals on the spectrum struggling.
The watching all of his peers and even younger kids pass him by. The fighting with my husband because I saw something he refused to see. The hoping it was anything but autism. Late bloomer. Boys will be boys.
Growing up autistic, I wasn’t sure what my future would look like when employed. I knew I had vital interests in sports and theater, but I didn’t know if some of my challenges, such as the inability to read body language, needing breaks at times due to long periods of social interaction, or inconsistent eye contact, would be accepted in a workplace setting.
I'm that mum, the helicopter mum that follows my child around the park the whole time.the one you roll your eyes at when you see the worried look on my face if I lose sight of my child for a split second.
To the parent who is wondering if they should take the picture. And wondering if they should celebrate just another day.To the dad whose sending some kids back to school but not the others.
There's something about the way she she holds onto him in this photo.It tugs at my heartstrings every time I see it. She’s the younger one, the little sister, but there’s nothing “little” about the way she loves him. Her brother has autism and she knows sometimes he needs a little extra guidance, love and protection.
I'm twenty five and still don't know what my own systems are trying to tell me. Why? Because I have autism, and that brings problems with one's interoception. Which tells you if you are you are hot, you are cold, or when you have to go to the bathroom, or when you should be feeling pain.
And let me tell you, prior to today, I’ve seen some stuff. Stuff you probably wouldn’t believe. Awful, demoralizing stuff.But today, I saw the worst.And as a disclaimer, please know this is not a political post. Anyone who knows me knows I’d rather start my eyelashes on fire than post about politics.
I had one of those reminders on Friday night when I did something I never do. I went out. It was my bestie’s husband’s 50th surprise party. There are not a lot of people in this world that could get me out on a Friday night away from my daughter and out of my home but this lady in pink beside me she’s the real deal.
Why is perspective important in lifePerspective Matters. It's a matter of perspective. I've been up for several hours researching, and figuring out ways to do what's best for our child as we navigate our IEP situation. I know it will all work out exactly the way it's supposed to.