It's been two days since it happened. It doesn't even have that *gasp* kind of effect when I tell it to other people, not like when I say it happened just earlier today, or even yesterday. Using the word "Thursday" might as well be last month to anyone else. It's so fresh in my nerves, and not being able to use the word "yesterday" just pulls away the ability for others to really feel the freshness of it with me, unless they're really thinking about the fact that it happened a mere 72 hours ago.
It's official. William was diagnosed with autism.
I was surprised, actually, at how much it hurt. In fact, my initial reaction, when the diagnosis came, was to nod and say, "Mmhmm," waiting for the "here's-what-you-do-next" part. And then, when that part came, I heard about thirteen seconds of it before I noticed my perfect little boy standing in the corner, so tired. He was so worn out from the day. He was letting the corner of the walls hold him up, while he tucked his chin into his chest and rubbed his eyes.
Jenny McCarthy will tell you that in this moment, she went back. She went back to one of the most precious moments of her life--the moment her son came into the world. I have to say, I wish that's what my mind did. Instead, mine went forward, and I got scared.
What's he going to look like when he's 16? Is he going to have friends? Is anyone--anyone--else going to know how amazing he is, other than me and his dad? Is he going to go to college and forget to call his mom for the first two weeks, and then call me, and I'm all crying, and he's like, Moooooooom! I'm busy! Is he going to have a girlfriend? Am I going to get to fight with him about her, trying to convince him that she's all wrong for him?
I'm just surprised. I didn't know it would hurt this much or be this scary since I'd already known the answer for as long as I have. Apparently, it's something like the difference between losing a loved one to an accident and losing them to a long battle with cancer. See it coming, or don't, but it still hurts. And you're going to cry your face off for a while.
The good news is that I haven't lost him. Not completely. I have to mourn as if I have, because there's a lot about our lives together that I took for granted when he was born--and we have to readjust that. There is mourning involved. But the chance I have with my son that is so different from death is that I have the rare chance to get him back, this side of heaven.
I don't know which route we'll go. I have a lot (a LOT) of information to consider. But, I swear to you on a stack of all the holiest things on earth, we will stop at nothing. I know he'll suffer. He has freaking autism; of course he's going to suffer. But if we can do anything to keep that suffering enclosed in the years he won't remember, we'll do it. Anything.
I will get my boy back.
It would be easier to say this if you were here... Because I don't have a single word for you. Just the biggest, longest hug.
ReplyDeleteMaura, you will get him back. You haven't lost him to begin with. Things you might have already heard, but you should hear again. The treatments available for autism (particularly ABA), especially when started early, are amazing in their effectiveness. He will have to learn social cues and eye contact and things like that, but they can be taught. It will be a lot (A LOT) of work, but it's just work, and it's the work that you were put on earth to do. We're with you in prayer, my friend. -Russell
ReplyDeleteYou will be fine, my amazing daughter!! And so will your amazing son. You just have a different journey than you anticipated. Difficult? Yes. Take you to your limit? Probably. Beautiful life with your family? Absolutely!!! Lots of love and support from Mom and Dad? You can count on it!!!!!
ReplyDeleteMaura, my name is Teresa Ley and you don't know me. Apparently we share a friend, Kay Reusser. She asked me to make a contact with you. As I read your above post, it brought back to the surface so many feelings that I had when I heard the words, "your daughter has autism" nearly 19 years ago. Let me tell you about our beautiful daughter, Jenny. Jen will be 22 this December. She graduated with a Core 40 diploma from Norwell High School in 2008. She is currently a junior at Huntington University, living in a dorm on campus. She is majoring in music. We, and she, are very much aware that the diagnosis will never go away, that she will always need to "work around" the disability. We, and she, are just fine with that... Has life always been fair to her? Heavens no! Has life been easy for her? Double heavens no! BUT...there have been so very many blessings along the way, so very many wonderful people placed in our lives that we know are from God. So Maura, my words for you right now...take some time to digest the diagnosis, then attack it and never stop! There is SO MUCH progress to be made ahead. Know that you are not alone and that this road is well traveled. Many blessings to you and your family. Teresa Ley
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