How to Explain Death to your Child with Autism

How to Explain Death to your Child with Autism

Telling your child someone they loved has passed away is never easy.  When that child has autism, it can be even more difficult.  I’ve had to tell the kids before about a death, but those were elderly people.  Today, they had to hear that their grandpa was gone.

They knew he had been sick and in the hospital.  Casey has been talking about Grandpa Bill and Heaven for a few days, but last night, she was saying he was going.  She always smiled when she said it.  She often smiles or giggles when she is nervous or isn’t sure how to react.  But then I realized she was smiling because she was happy for him.  She knew he was going to see Grandpa Jones (his dad) in Heaven.

I got choked up.  When their great-grandparents passed away, we talked about Heaven and being with Jesus.  During our lessons for church, we talked about Jesus and how good people go to Heaven when they die.  She firmly believes in Heaven and Jesus, even if she can’t go there.  It’s a real place to her – like the state she lives in.  She may not completely understand death, but she isn’t scared or unhappy about it.

Rob hasn’t said much, but he rarely does.  He knows about Heaven, but I think he sees it as a place like Oz.  It’s beautiful and some people go and others don’t.  He will ask for Grandpa Bill at times, I’m sure – probably when he visits his house.  He is a little anxious today, but I don’t know how much is from Grandpa and how much is the weather and the long weekend.

Casey is laying on the couch now reciting everyone she knows how has gone to Heaven – Bonnie, Grandpa Hopkins, Grandma Hopkins, Grandpa Jones, Bingo.  She is laughing and giggling.  She isn’t crying, but I am.  She asks “Mommy sick?”  I tell her I’m not sick, just sad.  Now, she is confused, because Heaven is a good place.

So I tell her again that yes, Heaven is good.  I tell her I am sad because I miss the people who are there.  She says “talk?”  Yes, Casey, I want to talk to them again.  Now she says “Talk!” – not a question, but a statement.  Because, when Casey and Rob want to talk to someone, they talk.  I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard one or the other talking to Grandpa Jones or Grandpa Hopkins.  It is so simple to them.

I can’t tell you exactly how to explain death to your child with autism.  The best advice I can give is to say to know your own feelings before you begin.  If you believe in Heaven, then share that with them.  If you have other beliefs, then share those.  And get ready for questions you may not want to answer when you are upset yourself.  The questions may not end for months.

I would caution you not to use phrases like “went to sleep” or “gone away.”  People with autism are so literal that hearing someone went to sleep and will never be seen again is just asking for sleep issues.  Would you go to sleep if you thought you would disappear?  I doubt it.  Avoiding sleep could become an obsession.  The same with saying “gone away” – your child may wonder if every time they can’t see you if you have left forever.

Tell your child the truth.  They may not understand the concept completely, but at least they won’t develop other issues because you took the easy way out.  Tell them what you believe and let them take the lead about questions.  I didn’t take Casey or Rob to any of the funerals and I won’t.  I want them to think of Grandpa in Heaven, not laying so still in a building they drive by all the time.

I am in no way saying my way is the right way.  You have to do what’s right for your child and your family.  Much of it depends on your child’s abilities.  Some people with autism understand death and can handle funerals.  Casey and Rob are not those people.  They won’t understand why Grandpa doesn’t talk to them.  They won’t understand why they never go back to that place to see him.

Explaining death is hard for anyone.  There are books for you to read to your child if that would be easier for you.  Before you do anything, please decide what you believe and follow that belief.  If you are confused, you will never be able to help your child through this difficult time.

Don’t be upset if your child has little or no reaction to losing someone they love.  That doesn’t mean they didn’t love that person – it simply means they don’t understand.   Or maybe they understand and believe in a happier place where we will all be together some time.  Don’t try to force your child to show emotion.

If attending the funeral will be too hard, find someone to stay with your child.  You need time to grieve without trying to take care of your child, too.  You will become upset quickly if your child doesn’t sit quietly in the service.  Save yourself some stress and leave them home.  Or find someone to stay in a quiet room at the funeral with them.

Let your child see you upset.  Let them know it’s ok to cry.  Or laugh or whatever emotion they feel.  Be ready for more behaviors or anxiety.  Make sure you tell their teacher or aides what has happened.

As for me, I’m going to try harder to follow Casey and Rob’s lead.  I’ll try harder to keep the simple faith that no matter how much I miss someone, they are in a happier place and I will see them again some day.

 

Autism and Sheltered Workshops

Autism and Sheltered Workshops

I just read another post that stated every sheltered workshop and day hab center needs to close and everyone who attends should find a “real” job.  I’m not a happy mom.

I understand the reasoning behind possible laws stating every able-bodied person should be working and earning a minimum wage.  Don’t they think that I would be pushing for that for my kids if I truly believed either one would benefit from it?  Casey and Rob need Hopewell – it really is that simple.  Does everyone that goes there need it?  No, of course not, but everyone has different abilities.  I just don’t understand why that is so hard for some people to understand.

Casey might…  maybe… possibly… be able to go to a “real” job – with supports, for a short amount of time.  If she wants to and is in the right mood and doesn’t decide that going to see Norma (a senior citizen she has developed a special friendship with) would be a better idea.  Casey doesn’t care about money.  She understands she needs money to buy things, but not where money comes from.  (Mom’s purse!  How it got there, she doesn’t know or care.)

Rob could not, at this point in his life, handle a job.  It’s that simple.  He doesn’t like noises, crowds, strange people or a different routine.  His anxiety levels are finally leveling out (and by that, I don’t mean it’s gone – I mean he isn’t humming, flapping, squealing and stealing paper clips all day long!)  He could not do it.   However, if any politician wants to prove me wrong, by all means, message me.  You can take him for a day – or a few hours – or an hour – whatever you can handle.  Ask the people who work with him every day what they think.

Rob doesn’t care about money, either.  The only thing he wants is to have 3 quarters in his pocket every morning when he leaves.  He never spends them, just likes having the ability to buy a pop if the need arises.  He understands that money is needed to buy things, but he doesn’t care where it comes from, either.

I do understand that there are many people out there who desperately want a “real” job and to make their own money.  There are people who need that job to live on their own or help support their families.  For those people, keep fighting!  Demand your services and what you need.  But, please, do not lump my kids into your needs.  We have our own needs.

Sure, it would be great if Casey and Rob were making money and could pay for the things they want or the places they want to go.  Who wouldn’t want a little extra money?  But it isn’t going to happen any time soon.  Maybe in a few years, they will both want jobs and I’ll move mountains to see that they get what they want.  Until then, don’t take away the place we all need.

Neither of the kids have brought home paychecks in months.  But – they are happy!  They are going places with their friends.  Rob is even interested in exploring new places and new experiences.  Casey can volunteer to her heart’s content.  She can have breakfast with the “girls” club (that Rob always seems to invite himself to!) and paint rocks to make others happy.

She can visit the nursing homes and see Norma or play wii or sneak a drink of pop.  They are going swimming with friends.  Rob will be going back to aquatic therapy soon.  All of this and more is available to them because of the workshop they attend.  I couldn’t do it for them.  I can’t take Casey every where she wants to be and leave Rob at home and he doesn’t want to go.  It just doesn’t work.

What about my job?  As much as I wish I was rich, I’m not and a job is a necessity.  If their lose their day hab services, what am I supposed to do?  They can’t be alone and I can’t afford to pay (their waiver will pay for some hours, but not nearly enough).  So where does that leave us?

I do understand what people are saying about minimum wages and the need for people with disabilities to be accepted into our communities.  I fight for that acceptance every day.  What I don’t understand is why it has to be an “all or nothing” situation.  Why do sheltered workshops or day habs have to disappear so people can have jobs?  It just doesn’t make sense to me.

We stress all of the time about looking at a person’s interests and abilities when making a plan for them, but someone who has never met my kids can make a major life decision?  Yes, please, no fanks as Rob says.  We would never take away a person’s therapy or medication without something to replace it – why in the world does taking away their secure, happy place make any sense?

My prayer is that all of the talk floating around is just that – talk.  Rumors or half-truths that have no bearing.  But, I hear about sheltered workshops closing and families being desperate for help.  I know they are expensive to maintain and finding quality staff can be an issue.  Casey and Rob need Hopewell – and so do I.

Keep fighting for what your family member needs.  Never, ever stop doing that – but just keep in mind that our needs are different.  This can’t be a “one size fits all” decision.

Autism and the Difficulties in Speaking

Autism Verbal Difficulties

It happened again.  A day that could have been so much fun for Rob was ruined, simply because he couldn’t ask for help when he needed it.  As much as he is able to talk, there are times when his autism and the verbal difficulty he has flare up and he gets frustrated.

Rob and Casey were going swimming with friends from Hopewell – the workshop they attend every day.  I was already a little concerned because they were going to a different pool – one that was just a pool and had none of the activities that Rob really enjoys (mushroom fountains are his absolute love – all the water pouring directly on his head is heaven to him!)

He was so excited to think about going swimming.  I’m sure he was a little disappointed that it was a new pool, but he jumped right in the pool.  Staff told me he got right back out and soon began pacing and yelling.  Tory tried to help him, but he was unable to tell her what he wanted or needed.  He wouldn’t even talk to Casey.

I got a message that he was upset and decided to go get him.  I didn’t want his anxiety to ruin the fun for the others in the group.  When I got to him, he started asking “get the van?  get the van?” so I knew his anxiety was sky high and not likely to come down any time soon.  He didn’t want to leave with me, but he didn’t want to go in the water, either.  I think he probably did want to swim, but since he wouldn’t, I told him to grab his stuff and we would just go home.

As we were driving home, Rob had his hand laying on the open window of the car.  That’s the only way I knew what really happened to him at the pool.  I saw the bee sting.  When I could pull over, I asked him to show me his hand.  “Let me see!  Let me see!” he said and held his hand out to me.  When Rob is sick or hurting, that is how he asks for help.

The stinger was out, but the hand was red and slightly swollen.  I noticed he sounded congested when I picked up him, but thought he was having sinus issues.  Nope – he was having a reaction to the sting.  He and Mandy used to be severely allergic to insects, but he hadn’t had a reaction in a long time.  He had gotten stung at the pool and he simply couldn’t tell Tory he needed help.

Instead, the pain got him worked up and he paced.  And he yelled.  And his anxiety grew.  All because of autism and verbal difficulty.  Can you imagine being in pain and not being able to tell anyone?  Not being able to ask for help?  Imagine the frustration and anxiety you would feel.  And I hated autism again for ruining his fun.

Had he been with Mandy or I, he probably would have said “Let me see” and we would have known something was wrong.  He just won’t (or can’t) say that to others.  So, because of autism, he suffered.  And I thought about the other times he was unable to ask for help when he needed it.  When he jumped down the steps and broke his collar bone.  When his foot issues start to flare up (if I can get ibuprofen in him early enough, the pain doesn’t get too bad).  When his head hurts.  And I think it just isn’t fair!

I know – life isn’t fair.  But it’s so hard to watch someone you love in pain because of verbal difficulties.  He can say so much of what he needs, but not always.  Sometimes, he just yells and gets anxious.  Sometimes, he cries.  Sometimes, Casey screams.  And I’m left trying to read their minds and find the issue.

Autism has taught me so much.  I am a better person for loving kids with autism.  I have met so many amazing people and learned about myself.  Autism has also taken things from me.  For me, the worse thing taken is the kids being unable to ask for help.  When I do finally realize the problem, the guilt comes.

Why didn’t I figure that out quicker?  How could I not realize they are in pain?   My parents tell me that’s crazy – it’s impossible for me to know everything about them.  My head understands that – my heart feels the guilt.  And you know guilt is harder to get rid of.

I’ve learned to “read” them – just as every other autism parents has learned.  I can tell by their eyes if something is wrong, if they are sick, if a tantrum is coming.  I can tell when they are happy or sad or mad.  I can see Rob’s anxiety and when Casey is getting overwhelmed.  I know all of this, but I still feel guilt when I don’t know it soon enough.

Thankfully, Rob’s hand is fine.  While he did cough a little, he didn’t have a bad reaction to the sting.  He will probably never go back to that pool as he will always associate it with a bee sting.  But, that’s ok.  We’ll go somewhere else.  Casey will be happy going anywhere.

We’ll always struggle with verbal difficulties.  I will be thankful for what they are able to tell me.  I will keep asking questions and hope to learn more about each of them.  We’ll keep hugging and laughing.  I’ll read stories to them and enjoy the giggles when Elmo saves the day again.  That’s what parents do.

And I’ll try to push the guilt away when I don’t know what’s wrong.  I’ll try to remember the good things about autism when I’m so sick of it I could scream.  Try to do the same.  Life isn’t always about bee stings and ruined pool trips.  Sometimes, it’s bear hugs and twinkling eyes and McDonald’s fries.

Family Dinners and an Autism Mom Worries

Autism Worries

In a few hours, my family, plus my brother’s in-laws, will be gathering to celebrate the birthdays of my two beautiful nieces, Lacey and Anna.  I want to go.  I want to see everyone and I want to have fun.  But, as an autism mom, family dinners are something to be enjoyed – and worried about.

In my head, I know it’s silly to even worry about it.  I know that everyone who will be there loves and understands Casey and Rob.  I know everyone will help me watch them (the party is at a campground and close to a river).  I know that Casey is so excited about celebrating their birthdays she can’t stop giggling about it.  (Casey loves birthdays and firmly believes everyone’s birthday needs to have cake, presents and balloons – whether the birthday person wants them or not.)

Rob isn’t as excited about going.  He’ll go and he’ll be excited to see Uncle Jeff and Grandpa Mack.  But he probably won’t enjoy it like Casey will.  He will be in a strange place, with people he doesn’t know well.  If the campground is busy, there will be lots of strangers around.  He won’t want to eat anything and he won’t want to sit for long.

So, autism mom’s head is racing with crazy thoughts.  Should I take his iPad, even without WiFi?  Don’t forget his spinners and his fidget cube.  Don’t forget chairs.  Will he yell when he is stressed?  Will she try to eat before it’s time?  Will she grab at people’s shoes to see their socks?  Don’t forget their birthday cards.  Maybe I should have asked Tracie to go, just to have someone else.

What’s the weather going to do?  The crazy storms of the last few days have not been good to him.  (and the fact he is STILL asking for the van!)  Will Casey be careful on the playground with smaller children running around?  And on and on and on.   Anyone with a child with autism knows exactly how I’m feeling.  I want to go to the party.  Everyone loves the kids so if they do have issues, it won’t be any big deal.  I want to see everyone and I want to relax.

But… there’s always a “but” isn’t there?  Sometimes, it just seems like too much work to go new places.  I know they need to do it – I know they will probably be fine.  And I know I get so tired of worrying about it.  Sometimes, autism is not my friend.  Sometimes, I just want to toss chairs in the car, grab birthday cards and go.  Especially to a family function – what easier place is there to go than with people who love you?

No place, but sometimes, it’s still hard.  I’m lucky –  my family has always been supportive of the kids.  I’ve never had to deal with family members who say autism isn’t real or that if I spanked them enough, the autism would disappear.  I’ve heard stories from other families.  It’s insane, but true.

If Rob yells, others will help him calm down.  It won’t have to be me.  But I feel guilty and autism guilt sucks worse than plain mom guilt.  If Casey grabs at socks, she will be reminded she needs to ask first.  I may not remind her, but someone will.  They are both loved.

We could stay home tonight.  I could just put my comfy clothes on, pick up my book and kick back.  I could tell Casey the party was canceled.  If I write cancel on her calendar, she’ll be ok with it.  The sky is getting cloudy.  Rob is a little loud.  We’ll just stay home.

But – I miss my brother and want to celebrate with my nieces.  I don’t want autism to rule our lives.  So, we’ll go.  And Casey will grab socks and sneak food.  Rob will rock and squeal.  I’ll sit close and try to relax.  Jeff will tell me to chill out.

Decisions like this may sound silly to anyone who doesn’t have a child with autism, but they are all too real to our family.  Staying home isn’t fair to Casey, but Rob may not enjoy it.  Every day, little decisions that other families make without a thought are major decisions.  Whether to go.  What to eat.  Whether to attempt a trip to the store.  Believe me, I understand your thoughts.

So here is my advice.  Go.  Take whatever you think you may need and ignore people who say you are coddling to your child.  Do what you need.  Take food they like – if the hostess doesn’t like it, too bad.  Take their fidgets.  Take their headphones, security blankets and whatever else they need.  Don’t let what might happen keep you from experiencing life beyond your home.

Really – what’s the worse that can happen?  A meltdown?  Been there, done that – and you know what?  I’m still here.  The kids are still here.  They are happy.  We all survived.  I may have had a crying meltdown when we got home, but no one had to deal with that but me.  Meltdowns may never go away – mine or theirs!

So grab your supports.  Take a deep breath and go.  Experience the world and help your child do the same.  If it doesn’t go well, have a cry and move on.  I need to go pack a big bag of tricks – we’ve got a birthday party to go to!

Anxiety in Autism

Autism Anxiety

Anxiety in autism is very common.  Rob is especially prone to anxious moments while Casey doesn’t.  When he gets anxious, he gets loud.  And I mean a loud that you can’t understand unless you live with it.  I love him more than he knows, but sometimes, it takes all I have not to scream in my pillow.

Poor Rob.  I know he can’t help it.  He is really sensitive to new weather patterns and a drop in the barometer is likely to bring a lot of stress to him.  We joke that he is  better at predicting the weather than anyone who uses a computer model.  When the kids were in school, we had a small coat rack in the dining room for their backpacks.  Through the week, the backpacks hung there every night.  On the weekend, they hung in their bedrooms.

We always knew when a snowstorm was coming because Rob would put his backpack in his room instead of on the coat rack when he knew they would have a snow day the next day.  He was wrong only once in his entire school experience – and that was a flood, not a storm.  We still have people who text or message me asking what Rob says about the weather.

Summer storms are no different.  If Rob gets loud, or keeps looking at the dining room window, I know something is coming.  More than once, he has asked to shut the windows and I’ll tell him no, only to have the rain start within minutes.  I don’t know how he does it – only that he feels it coming.  Rain or snow – it doesn’t matter.

This week, his anxiety reached a higher level when our van needed work done on it.  When he gets anxious, he can repeat things.  And when I say repeat, I mean he may say the same thing 15 – 20 times a minute.  “Get the van” became his phrase and it continued.   Our conversation was repeated over and over.  “Get the van.” “It’s broke, Rob.  We’ll get it later.” “Get the van.” “Later, Rob.” “Get the van.” “Later, Rob, it’s broke.” “Get the van.” “Please, Rob, listen to me.  We’ll get it later.” “Get the van.” “No, Rob.” “Get the van.” “Uncle Jeff has it.” Silence.  Thank you, God – and please remind me to use Uncle Jeff more!

I can’t talk him out of his anxiety.  I can’t make him forget.  I know they both need their routines to make sense of a world that doesn’t make sense most of the time.  I don’t want to change the kids, but there are days when it drives me crazy.  Moms aren’t supposed to admit that, but who cares?  Everyone has days like that.

To help with his anxiety, I offer what I can.  Ripping magazines and cardboard helps Rob calm down (deep pressure on his hands) and cutting clay (again, deep pressure) so I make sure to keep supplies on hand.   He sleeps with so many blankets, it’s hard to find him at times, but the blankets offer pressure.  Rob also takes medications to help relieve his anxiety.

He will also look for things to break to give him the deep pressure he wants.  Pop can tabs are a favorite target, as are pencils to snap and paper clips to break.  It’s my job to find appropriate things to give him the deep pressure he so desperately needs.

He has been going to aquatic therapy once a week and thoroughly enjoys that.  He has a swing to relax in.  He gets the tightest hugs I can give him.  The list of what we’ve tried is long – chewy candy, gum, ankle or wrist weights to name a few.  Every day, I try to think of something else.  Luckily, everyone around us is thinking, too, and nothing is too silly to try.

Anxiety in autism is hard for our kids, but maybe even more for us.  As parents, we want nothing more than to help our children be happy and it isn’t easy to admit we are out of ideas.  Something important to remember (and I have to remind myself of this!) is that our kids are often super-sensitive to the moods of people around us.  The more anxious we are to help their anxiety, the more anxious they may become.

As hard as it is, try to relax.  Yes, your child will have hard days.  But – you need to be ready to give the hugs or the pats on the head or whatever it is that your child craves from you.  Relax and remember that the tough days always pass and easier ones come.

Smile and hug your family!

Jen