For the most part, I do laugh about most of our “adventures in autism” but there is one day that will never be funny to me. You might think it was the day Casey was diagnosed – or Rob. No, those were tough days to hear about autism but our really bad, terrible autism day happened in February when Casey was 6, Mandy was 3 and Rob was about 18 months.
Casey was in Kindergarten. Mandy was going to the preschool that Casey had attended. Two days a week, as soon as Casey got off the school bus, we loaded into the van to go get Mandy. This was our routine and it was fine with Casey as she loved visiting her old school.
On that day in February, a snowstorm was predicted for the next day, so I decided to stop and grab some milk on the way home from picking up Mandy. Casey was happy in the van, until we turned into the parking lot. She didn’t start screaming then – she just made unhappy noises and I assured her we were not going to be in the store long. I got everyone out of their car seats, kept Rob in my arms and grabbed Casey’s hand while Mandy took her other one.
The closer we got to the store, the more Casey got worked up. She was chanting “Barney! Barney!” but still in control. (Her routine was to watch Barney the Dinosaur when she got home from school.) When we walked into the store, she dropped and the screams started. I had to put Rob down to try and reason (what was I thinking???) with her. Rob was thrilled and toddled off. I had to send Mandy (remember – she was 3!) after him because I couldn’t leave Casey who was blocking the entire doorway and showing no signs of ever getting up.
Her screams echoed through the store. I’m sure people were staring, but I didn’t have the time to look. I was sweating and so mad. I knew she was upset because of the change in her routine. I knew she probably couldn’t help it. I simply didn’t care. I just wanted to yell back at her to get up and get in the cart and stop screaming. I was shaking. I was furious. And I knew that I was the world’s most terrible mom for being mad at my child with autism.
Rob and Mandy were having a great time running around. Mandy was dragging my purse because I couldn’t hold onto it and try to get Casey up. She was throwing herself around and kicking and I couldn’t get a grip on her to pick her up. And I swore to kill that stupid purple dinosaur. (Okay – yeah, I know that wasn’t so reasonable, but you have to understand the state I was in.) I finally got a grip on her belt loops and picked up her as she screamed and kicked. Not one person stopped to ask if I needed any help.
Mandy saw I had Casey in my arms so she grabbed her little brother and ran to the door with me. (They were still having fun running!) I still don’t know how I got all of us across that parking lot. Casey was still screaming and kicking and I don’t know how many times I almost dropped her. God was watching over us – we made it safely to the van. As soon as she realized we were going home, Casey stopped screaming, looked at me, and said “Barney.” And I, being the calm rational gal I am, said “Nope, no way! You are never watching that damn dinosaur again!” (Yeah, not my finest moment. I still feel terrible.)
When we got home, Casey ran right to the TV for Barney and I turned it off. (again, not my finest moment – what can I say? I wasn’t thinking straight) Casey, of course, hit the floor screaming and I started crying. I called my mom and cried and yelled into the phone. I swore she would never, ever watch that damn show again. I cried that I couldn’t do this anymore. I was done. Finally, my venting was over and I just cried. I was exhausted. My mom kept telling me this was just a bad day and that we would be okay. I didn’t believe her and told her as much.
Casey finally wore herself out and fell asleep on the living room floor. I hung up the phone and laid on the kitchen floor. I was too tired to get up. I was too tired to care about moving. I heard Mandy and Rob playing and closed my eyes. I ..kept praying the same thing over and over “Please, God, give me strength. I can’t do this.”
Of course, after some sleep, I knew keeping Casey from Barney wasn’t fair. She watched him later that evening (and she still watches that silly show!).
That day still makes me want to cry. I can still remember how I felt sitting on the kitchen floor. I know how tired I was. And I know we made it through.
I don’t share this story for anything other than to show that your terrible days will pass, too. I know how exhausted you are. I know you are just done. I know you sit on your kitchen floor and cry in the phone. But I also know you are stronger than you think.
When you have days like that, go easy on yourself. Yell, cry, pray – whatever you need to do to get through that moment and on to the next. Take a deep breath – slowly in through your nose and out your mouth. Let go of the guilt you may feel over not being the mom/dad that you think your child needs. Your child needs you. Simple as that.
Look at us. We had dark days. We had days that lasted weeks (and still do, at times). And Casey and Rob are both happy. They are doing so well. Her doctor even suggested decreasing one of her medicines and see how she does. They enjoy their lives and being with people they love.
You can do this. I promise.