Later this week, I’ll be taking Casey and Rob to their annual neurology appointment. I just realized that I have been making this trip – two hours from home – for 29 years. Casey was 4 when she was officially diagnosed and I was nine months pregnant with Rob. For the first two years, I had to take Casey every six months, then, when things got especially crazy for her, we went every three months for two years. By the time Rob was diagnosed, we were back to once a year.
I was thinking about the mom I was way back then. I remember being in the doctor’s office and not being too upset when he said “autism.” I had a pretty good idea before we went and, honestly, my biggest concern was to make it home without going into labor. She wasn’t sick, she wasn’t in pain. How bad could autism be? (remember – this was before everyone knew someone with autism and not much information was available anywhere!)
Casey was already in speech and a special needs preschool so there wasn’t much I could have changed. She adored Mandy and she loved her teachers. She was fearless. At that point, she just wouldn’t say much. Again – how bad could autism be?
If I could talk to that young mom from back then, I have so many things to tell her.
I would tell her that there would be days that autism would suck. That there would be days she would sit on the kitchen floor and cry from exhaustion. That sensory meltdowns would be terrible – that she would feel helpless and alone as she tried to help her beautiful little girl.
I would tell her that autism is amazing. That every day, she would find something to be happy about. That she would never take for granted a smile or a hug. That she would be happy with any words – even the ones that Casey shouldn’t say, just because she was talking! I would tell her she is stronger than she thought.
I would tell her that there are more good people than bad in this world, but that bad people are louder and meaner than she could imagine. I would tell her that standing up for her daughter would be hard and she would make people mad – but she would learn to not care. I would tell her that, even as she hated being “that mom”, people would come to respect her strength for fighting for her kids.
I would tell her that it doesn’t matter what others think. That Casey had every right to go places and try new things – and if someone didn’t like it, tough. I would tell her to not be embarrassed about autism. That she should live her life as she wanted and show Casey a world that wasn’t quite ready for her.
I would tell her she would experience lows that she wouldn’t think she could get through – but she would. I would tell her the happy times would far outweigh the bad, even when she felt the bad times would never end. I would tell her to keep dreaming for Casey, Mandy and Rob – that they would be fine.
I would tell her to ask for help when she needed it – that it’s good to be strong, but it’s okay to need help, too. I would remind her that her family was only a phone call away – she just needed to pick up the phone and ask. I would tell her that she can’t imagine the hurts that she will have to deal with – but that she would deal with them and move on…. stronger and happier than ever.
I would tell her that the struggles would be worth it. That she can handle anything. That when she worries, it’s worries that Casey and Rob don’t care about. I would tell her that Casey and Rob (and Mandy!) would struggle, but she will be able to help them. She will teach them strength and resilience and kindness and fun. She will laugh with them – she will be messy with them. Most importantly, I would tell that young mom that her kids will be okay. They will be amazing.
I would tell her that professionals aren’t always right – she will know her child better than anyone. It will be hard to stand up to them, but she can do it!
And that’s what I want all new autism parents to know. You will struggle. You will cry. You will be furious and hurt and tired and stressed. You will also be blessed to be able to be grateful for the little things in life. You will see the magic in every day, because your child will show you. It may be hard to see at times, but you will learn to see the love and you will know that through everything else, autism won’t define your child any more than the color of their hair.