Hard to believe, but this month of August, 2010 marks 4 years that we've had an autistic child. He was actually showing major, huge signs at 3 1/2 years, but it took until almost 4 years old before we actually heard that dreaded word fall from the specialist's mouth. Reece will turn 8 in a week and looking back on our journey with this special boy, I honestly thought that by now he'd be cured. In fact, when he got his diagnosis, I was sure that by age 7 we might be struggling with some minor speech articulation and maybe a little reading trouble, but never in a million years did I think he would still be..... autistic. Have I lost all hope? No. Naive or ignorant I am not, but when it comes to this mysterious disorder, if I give up then I've lost him.
It seems so sad to me because as Reece's baby and toddler years get farther and farther behind us, I find myself grasping to remember the boy before the autism. Sometimes I see him, but other days, I don't. I find myself struggling with jealousy of parents whose little boys are fine and normal. These parents will never have to wonder if their boy will ever be able to live as an independent man. They can confidently dream about what he will become without wondering "Will he be one of those people that can only sack groceries?"
These past couple weeks have been wonderful at some times and soooo frustrating at others. Sometimes Reece can act so NORMAL! Like when he cleaned and polished his off-road trike before he took it for a spin. Or when I caught him talking to himself and making funny faces in the mirror. Or when he was recounting the story of the turtle biting him or when I had to stop him from "riding his bike to Grandma's house". But, for every "normal" moment, there are 4 autistic ones. Like when he lets out a blood curdling "autistic" scream in front of a visitor. Or when he gets so mad that all he can do is stim, stim, stim. Or when he gets into things, just like a 2 year old would do. I could go on and on and on.
One thing I have learned though, is that I think I appreciate those "normal" moments much more than the average parent. When you're not really sure what will become of your little guy, you treasure all the wonderful little things. You call your husband at work, just to tell him some little sentence that Reece said. Or you take a picture of him washing his trike. Or you sit and savor the sound of his interaction with his twin sister. These are things that I think I would take for granted if I had never had a special needs son.
When I first became pregnant with the twins and we found out that we were having a boy and a girl, I just assumed everything would be fine and they would perfectly normal children, just like my siblings and me. It never once occurred to me that God would have a completely different plan for Jeff and me. I use to wonder "Why me? Why does He think I can handle this but not other mothers?" But, after 4 years, I've learned that I may never know "why" but I do know that I CAN! And, even though I still have all the hopes and dreams for Reece that every mother has for her little boy, I have learned that if he never reads, if he never lives independently, if he never has children of his own, none of that really matters. The only things that really truly matters is that Jeff and I teach him about Jesus and his saving grace. God will give Reece the understanding that is sufficient, but, unless Reece hears us pray, listens to us read the Bible and sees faith in other fellow Christians, he will be lost. So, that is my number one priority. I will never stop in my quest to cure him, but I won't ask "Why me?" nearly as often! And I will treasure this wonderful, unique, unusual and oh-so-special little boy that God decided to entrust us with.
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