The Emotional Autism Mommy
52 Week Writing Challenge
The coulda, woulda, shoulda beens become almost too much some days. How is it possible that I have a son with autism. Why!! Stop crying again, Lynn. Stop crying. It happens like that a lot. Be bopping along and then the tears flow.
I couldn’t begin to fathom the amount of work having a child with autism requires. Emotional hard work. Luckily love sits right there with this for me, but autism is a struggle. On the spectrum they have classified Owen as moderate to severe. Some days I wonder what is past severe, because that’s where we sit. Other days I’m like we got this, everything is going to be just fine. And then I wonder how do I have a child with autism.
The up and down emotions are hard for me. Sometimes I accept this all a lot easier. Other days I cry. So I pretty much cry every day, but sometimes they are all happy tears for his great accomplishments.
The words were flowing as I showed him the animal picture cards. He did so great. I’m not sure how to make him use more of his words. He doesn’t know how to have a conversation. How do you even explain a conversation to a five year old that barely understands words, but truly is doing amazing, because the doctors said he probably wouldn’t talk.
I don’t know what the hardest part of this is. My child is five. He doesn’t dress himself, he doesn’t wash himself or even know how to, he can’t get his own food, barely knows how to ask for the food he likes, and here I sit trying to figure out how to help him. My mind spins with this.
I got lots of hugs and words as we worked on flashcards. His reward is bubbles. He loves them. Absolutely loves them. It is his motivator. It’s my motivator too, because I see how happy he is when they form all around him. I wonder how can I make bubbles translate for him into a better learning experience. What else can I do. This is my constant question, what can I do.
Autism strikes me different ways, different days. Some days I’m calm about it. Some days I’m mad about it. And some days I don’t get it at all. Not even in the slightest. How does my baby have autism. And how come I don’t get more help. Autism is hard on my son, hard on me.
Autism has changed my life forever. I never understood what autism meant, now it has ahold of my life, but more importantly my son’s life. I walk the path of hope. I have to believe that, like people tell me, this will get easier. I haven’t seen that yet, but I sit and wait in hope. Autism wasn’t important to me, until autism was important to me.
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