There is an old proverb,
"Just when the caterpillar thought the world was about to end, it became a beautiful butterfly."As humans we experience that molting process many times; here is the story of my most recent experience of molting and re-emerging changed.
I was in a private room, seated in an executive chair at a large conference desk, among a team of doctors and my husband, when I first got the news that Clayton had autism. "I knew there was something" I thought, validating my instincts and intuition. Then my thoughts went silent like the still before a storm in the Heartland. All at once, out of no where, I was shattered and shocked, shook to my core, and questioning - - - could they be right? Were they wrong? All this swirled behind my expressionless face as I shook hands with the doctors and thanked them. . . and as I scooped up Clayton's little hand, smiled at him, and walked him out to the car to go home.
We went home and a gamut of emotions and actions ensued - I was angry, then I cried, then I researched, and then I was determined to "fix" it and to find a "cure". Questions reeled in my mind as I lay to go to sleep each night . . .what if I didn't look hard enough, research long enough, what if I fail to cure my son? I felt forlorn, exhausted, and defeated - I was researching to no avail and wrapping myself tightly into a cocoon of confusion and lost hope. As I researched, Tyler grieved in the way many men do. Silently. Indifferently. Stoically. Anger masking his sadness. After much prodding he revealed his inner anguish and pain. I felt relieved that my husband felt as deeply for our child as I did; his heart-break was just manifesting differently.
We loved our child so intensely that we wanted nothing more than to protect him, to teach him, and to give him roots and wings for the best possible shot at an abundant life. We were upset because we weren't sure how to do that now. We felt that the rules of the game were changed, and we didn't understand how to operate within the new parameters. In researching to try to find a "cure," I've discovered that autism isn't a problem that needs to be "fixed", rather a view of the world that needs to be unlocked, understood and embraced. Tyler and I need to love Clayton for who he is in all his complexities and glory.
He is a kid with autism (PDD-NOS/high-functioning autism/possibly Asperger's). But he is not autism(PDD-NOS/high-functioning autism/possibly Asperger's).
He is my child... My child that loves cars and putting tracks together. My son that hates haircuts. My little man who will try and con you into letting him read his entire book shelf, rather than just one story. My buddy who sometimes screams at my touch, and other times asks me to squeeze him more tightly and spin him 'round. My darling that I rocked to Celine Dion's "Beautiful Boy" on many stary nights; he cried and arched his back and finally slept in my arms as I gazed upon all of the perfection in each feature of his face. My boy who begs to ride his big wheel and runs around giggling with his sister. My son that loves to go to the swimming pool. My child that loves to get in between us when it thunders, and crawls into bed each morning with the same adorning smile and the question "can I snuggle with you?" My boy who cries and screams, yet tries so hard to hold still, while I cut his nails. My son who quickly memorized books such as "The Hungry Caterpillar," and "Brown Bear" before the age of two and read them to me. A boy who has adored his baby sister "Emms Emms" since the day he met her in the hospital and sang her "Lullaby and Goodnight, My sweet Emma Elizabeth." My child that would opt out of hair washing altogether if given the chance. My son that loves to brush his own teeth and help his Daddy cook. My smarty pants that has learned to spell out words at age 3 1/2 years old - and is even working on sounding out words. I could write pages . . .
I have been reluctant to share his autism diagnosis with others. I guess I want to protect him from people "studying" him or passing judgements on him. I don't want other parents to be fearful and shy away from letting their children play with Clayton, as he could use friends just like the rest of us.
At other times, I have felt compelled to share his autism with others, in order for them to understand his behaviors. So that they understand he is not a brat, but simply overwhelmed and frustrated sometimes by the world around him. Those whom I have shared this with have been overwhelming loving and supportive. But, Autism is complex and I've noticed that although we want to smoother my little man with love all the more, sometimes we don't really understand how to best love and support him.
What I have learned is that Clayton doesn't need to be "fixed" or "cured." He sees and understands the world differently than most. Through therapy and treatment, he can become adjusted and enabled to be part of this world; a world that is very odd and peculiar to him. He needs help understanding the world around him, and how to deal with the various sensations and stimuli that really upset him. He needs us to teach him how to initiate play and conversations, and how to start and keep relationships with others. Relationships he craves, but the forming of which comes unnaturally.
What Clayton needs most is to be loved and taught. Clay needs this love and nurturing guidance more than treatment or therapy. He needs friends and love just like all of us, although it may not always be apparent through his words and actions.
Since his interpretation of the world is so different than mine, I find myself daily trying to learn to see it though his lens. Today I embrace the fact that my son has mild-autism/PDD-NOS, it is part of him in all it's possibilities and mysteries. I accept that mild autism is a part of him and his life. . . part of my and my family's life, . . . and I celebrate the fact that there are some things about autism that are very cool and intriguing.
Who can say they have something in common with Bill Gates, Bach, Issac Newton, Beethoven, Mark Twain, Mozart, Michelangelo, Thomas Edison and Albert Einstein?? Clayton can! Now there is the beautiful butterfly!!! I think I'm a little jealous! Just check out all of the extraordinary people on the autism spectrum in this video clip! My little extraordinary buddy is in the company of the greats! Who wants to "fix" and "cure" that? Not this Mommy! I want to give him every ounce of nurturing guidance within me and I want to live in hope that of a sky-is-the-limit future for my son. Isn't this a universal want that mothers have for their children? Carry on, beautiful butterfly Clayton, carry on.
