Setting Son Sunday

Our autism journey

Lynn Browder
Sep 2, 2018 · 3 min read

Some days I sit and observe Owen. I’m watching his eyes dance across his tablet’s motions. Sometimes he will raise his hand out in front of him turning it into a fist, and then releasing its energy straight out in the world, and returning to the fist position. I was going to be one of those moms that signed to their child about everything, but Owen had other plans. Early on, as soon as he could figure out how to stop me, he would come to me when I started to sign, and cover my hands. It didn’t start out like that, as a baby he loved it. He would move his hand up, and down with me as sang, and signed the alphabet. And then one day he started screaming, and screamed some more. He would come to my hands, pulling them apart as quick as he could, throwing himself in a puddle, so he didn’t have to watch my hands. Life is interesting. I have to breathe for the emotions that are rolling over me. I took sign language for three years when I was young. Full circle has begun. I never gave up on sign language with Owen, only putting it on hold, maybe so both of our emotions could catch up. I sign “I love you” to Owen a hundred times a day, as much as I can. He watches for it, he comes to my hands, moving them in and out of the position so he can see it, sometimes even flipping his hand around like he used to, letting me kiss his forehead. My mind travels quickly back, and forth from yesteryear to the present, trying not to let the sadness seep in for those unknowing days. They were hard. No one could flat out tell me he had autism. It felt like jumping through hoops to hear the official words. No labels too early, he’s young, they would say, give it some time. And then the “box” report came. That’s all I thought about it. Another form I had to fill out checking boxes of what he could, and couldn’t do. It was one more slap in the face of a reality that I’m still facing. Owen is beautiful, Owen is amazing, Owen is strength in times of my own discouragement. I reflect on how far we have come, because sometimes I need to feel the progress deep in my soul when all I want to do is be the puddle on the floor. Peace comes in knowing, but sometimes you have to find it in yourself, and the rest will follow. Today I breathe, today I have to soar for my baby, and for me. Life is full of lessons, even the ones we don’t want. Let today be your guide for tomorrow, and soar. Smiles to all and donut daze!

Lynn Browder
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