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I hope those who are reading this have seen this movie.  It will make so much more sense.

Joy, Fear, Anger / Disgust, and Sadness.

I’ve got them all this week.

Let’s start out nice.

 

In one of my past posts, I talked about the “Autism waiting game,” and how we as special needs parents wait much longer for things to happen than most parents (i.e. first words, first bike rides, etc).

But when that progress f-i-n-a-l-l-y happens, how beautiful and sweet it is.

So for some reason, Daniel and I have been super blessed with a nice dose of PROGRESS lately on all levels.

For one, Samuel’s speech is exploding.

Just in the past week, for the first time ever, I saw him point to Noah and say “NO-AH,” and in the same day, he said the name of one of Noah’s little friends, “HEN-REE.”

Then last week in the morning, I asked him where Daddy was, and he replied – with speech just as clear as day – “I don’t know.”   Another first. If I hadn’t been sitting down I would have fallen over.

He’s also inquiring, and trying to show when he’s wondering something.

Case in point: Daniel usually picks him up at the end of the day from the Pre-K playground, but Daniel had been in the New York for that past week. So one of my colleagues came through the door of the playground to pick up her daughter and saw Samuel sitting on a tricycle, watching who came through the door. She went over to him and said, Hi Samuel, and he held up his hands as if to question something, and asked, “Daddy?”

That in itself is amazing (and preciously heartbreaking…) – but he was actually able to communicate that he was wondering where Daddy was.

We’re also hearing things out of Noah that we’ve never heard before – almost on a daily basis now. He’s speaking in full sentences, when we are so used to one-two word phrases.

For example, the night after Daniel left for New York, Noah came in and said, verbatim,

“Mommy, Daddy is in New York City. Can I sleep in the bed with you?”

What I would usually have expected to hear would be something like,

“Mommy, Daddy on airplane? Sleep here?”

But NO – I enjoyed hearing two full, BEAUTIFUL, grammatically-correct sentences.

It’s amazing what kinds of things can excite you as a special needs parent.

Our nine year old can finally speak in full sentences…!  Break out the wine! 🙂 🙂

And, Gabriel is rocking the trumpet.

In his class, his Band teacher has a fun way to keep track of her students’ progress – using a Karate belt color system – so if you’re a White belt, you have mastered the very basics of holding the trumpet correctly, being able to play a few notes, etc.  If you’re a Yellow Belt, you’ve gained some new, more difficult skills, etc.

She has large pieces of paper on the wall of her classroom, each in a different belt color, and so if you have mastered the “White belt” skills, your name goes on the White Belt piece of paper.

So for the first nine weeks or so of classes, Gabriel refused to participate in this competition, and his name was nowhere to be found on the wall – while his classmates’ names were not only there but were progressing up the colors.  I can’t imagine how sad that must have been for him, but he’s so afraid to put himself in any type of position where others might have a chance to make fun of him that I can see why he didn’t want to do it.

Once I heard he refused to be part of this, we stepped up his practices, found a fantastic private tutor for him once a week, and we encouraged him to start trying to be part of it. He wasn’t near as resistant as I thought he would be.  Actually, he didn’t resist at all; he just needed a loving push. 🙂

So I’m proud to say that he has worked hard, and has improved so much that he’s gone through the White belt… and the Yellow belt…. AND the Orange Belt… and just today he told me his name is now on the Green Belt!

And, I can’t believe how well is he playing compared to when he first started – and how quickly he has picked up sight reading musical notes and catching onto the rhythm.

So Samuel and Noah’s speech / language has improved dramatically, and Gabriel is blowing up the trumpet.

And I’m trying SO hard to embrace it, but it’s tough to do so.

Because I know it won’t last.

We as special needs parents wait for those positives and little successes for SO long, and then they come, but it’s like, I can’t enjoy it because I know it won’t last, and I’m afraid of the hurt that will follow.

Noah and Samuel’s speech-expanding bonanza will slow down, and Gabriel’s quick rise through the trumpet-karate-color-wheel is certain to start tapering off.

And then, the hurtful, long, drawn-out waiting game for the next taste of success continues.

Yes, I know, I’m talking like the glass is half-empty.

And I don’t mean that as a cliche.

It’s literally that sinking-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach-feeling you get when your wine glass is half empty and you know you can’t have anymore beyond that glass because you’re a lightweight and won’t remember the rest of the night if you drink anymore…

THAT kind of half-empty just sucks.

And I’m so afraid to feel that kind of disappointment that it stops me from fully enjoying the happiness that should accompany such nice success in my children.

And, maybe it goes along with the pessimism, anger, and negativity of being a special needs parent in general.

Because sometimes, it feels like a disgusting, cruel joke.

It’s like this: you have a special needs child(ren), which is in itself, VERY difficult.  I don’t believe I need to outline all the reasons why.

Then, guess what you get to look forward to?  It becomes much, much tougher to find a school that will even accept your child(ren) because of his/her special needs (and I’m specifically talking about the international schools realm, not US public schools).

Then, guess what the next perk is?  If/when your child(ren) gets accepted, that school is going to make you pay much more money than the parent of a neurotypical child, because your child(ren) has special needs.  (This I get – more services means more money, but it still hurts..)

THEN, you have no idea what is going to happen to your child(ren) when he/she leaves High School, because he/she/they may not be able to live on their own, and university is a far-off, very possibly-unrealistic dream.

PS – Don’t ever complain about empty nest syndrome around a special needs parent.  Special needs parents would kill to feel that empty nest syndrome.  That means your child is independent enough to make it on their own.  Yeah, we want that too.

So, yeah.  This is life.

I suppose, sometimes, Moms just need to vent, rant, whatever.  And this is it – a full blown rant if I’ve ever ranted.

And, I’m really, really sad this week – for several reasons (none of which have to do with Daniel or the boys, thank goodness) – other than the quiet, ever-present sadness of being a special needs parent that tends to ebb and flow.

PS – When I’m brave enough to start writing about my own issues outside of being a special needs Mom, I’ll open up about other reasons that I’m sad, but I’m not quite there yet.

But I suppose it’s all connected.

I wonder what kind of person I would be if I weren’t a special needs parent.  I know it’s changed me, and I don’t know if it’s for the better or worse.

But I hope it’s for the better.

So, there is no Inside Out character for the emotion of HOPE, so I’ll use the picture of Julia, who is the first Autistic character to be featured on Sesame Street.

Because this amazing act of promoting autism awareness by Sesame Street is unmatched, and it fills me with hope.

And, I also refuse to end this post with sadness.

I have hope, because I must.  Without hope, what’s the point?

AND, I have gratitude.  I love my children with all my heart and I wouldn’t trade them or who they are for anything on Earth.

And maybe Gabriel will end up being first trumpet at Lincoln Center.  Maybe Noah will be a broadway actor with beautiful articulation in his speech.  Maybe Samuel will be Science Professor, a plumber, an author, a physical trainer, w-h-a-t-e-v-e-r he wants to be.

I want my beautiful boys to be whatever they want to be: independent and confident enough to live how they would choose to live.

**************************

When I started this blog last year, the very first thing I ever said was that sometimes I feel sorry for myself.  So anyone reading this has had a front-row seat to my pity party.

But it made me feel better to write it, so at least something good came out of it.

Thank you for listening.

 

 

Happy New Year! (about a month late, I know)

This past month, I spent some time reflecting on all that happened last year – especially with how our boys grew and changed.

And I have to say, some truly amazing things happened in 2016 with our boys – some major milestones were met.

Samuel became potty trained, and our family said farewell to a decade of buying diapers.

Gabriel learned to ride a bike.

Noah started having play dates with friends (and his first sleepover).

But, it also occurred to me how much later in life these milestones happened for our kids than for neurotypical (or “normal”) children.

Autism creates all sorts of delays in social and emotional development, and in some cases, these delays take years.

• Samuel became potty trained – at age 4 (usual age for potty training: 2-3)
• Gabriel learned to ride a bike – at age 12 (usual age to learn: 3-8)
• Noah had his first sleepover– at age 9 (usual age for boys: 4-5)

Of course, these milestones vary and sometimes depend on your culture, but looking up some reputable American sources, these were around the usual ages.

For anyone who has seen my Facebook posts, I’ve happily screamed about all three of these events on my timeline for anyone who would listen.

Because milestones are important to parents.

They help us mark the occasion that change is actually happening – that all of the work we’re doing as parents can actually produce a positive result – which – in the midst of all that hard work, is often hard to see.

While Daniel and I were both ecstatic to have Samuel finally independent enough to use the potty on his own, and while we are super proud of Gabriel finally becoming brave enough to try the bike on his own – the fact that Noah had a sleepover for his 9^th birthday earlier this month was especially profound for our family.

Daniel and I can’t stop talking about it – because it is literally the first sleepover our family has ever hosted – as Gabriel has never had a sleepover in his life.

Now, this may seem to most like a very simple thing that we could easily control, and you’ll probably think it’s our own fault as parents that we haven’t hosted a sleepover.

But the thing is, Gabriel never had any friends who wanted to come over to our house and spend time with him (things are looking up however… – I’ll keep you posted).

In truth though, it has been the rare occurrence that Gabriel has been invited to any birthday parties, and he himself has never been invited to any sleepovers. He continues to sit by himself every day at lunch, and wanders around by himself during breaks between classes.

In honesty, a lot of his isolation is self-inflicted. Kids have tried to reach out to him on multiple occasions, and he’s been out & out rude to them.

Defense mechanism, I get it.

Daniel and I even offer to sit with him at lunch (which, yes – that would probably be very uncool for a teenager to have his parents sit with him at lunch) but getting back to my point – we’ve yet to really have the opportunity to host his friends at our home, the way that other parents do with their children’s friends.

And Noah has been no exception to the Autism exclusion factor: he’s definitely had his share of kids ostracizing him in the past. I want to hang my head and cry when I think of some of the things I’ve heard kids say to him.

But now, for some wonderful reason, the stars have magically aligned and Noah has not one, but two – really good friends. And for the first time, after being parents for nearly 13 years, we as a family finally felt like the conditions were right to host a sleepover for one of our boys.

For Noah’s 9^th birthday, we took him and his two friends, along with Gabriel and Samuel, to the massive, world’s largest (literally) Chuck E. Cheese here in Jeddah, and watched our birthday boy run around playing and screaming with his “friends.” His friends.

I just keep wanting to repeat it: my son has f-r-i-e-n-d-s!!!!!

Daniel and I watched Noah (while also scrambling around to keep up with Samuel, who was definitely getting his fill of fun) and every few minutes, Daniel and I would exchange quick, Mommy/Daddy glances filled with amazement, surprise, and pure, PURE happiness.

As parents, we have gone for so very long watching our little boys be excluded and wander around full playgrounds by themselves.

I think that takes a toll, emotionally. It must, as we don’t know (and will never know) what it’s like to have a “normal” child who easily makes friends.

But at this moment, we actually got to watch our boy be INcluded. To have fun with others, not merely exist in the midst of others.

We became “sponges” – because Daniel and I soaked up that experience unlike anything else in our lives.

However, my heart still hurt because Gabriel seemed lost. He’s almost 13 so he’s pretty much grown out of Chuck E. Cheese, and he wandered around by himself for most of the evening. The saving grace for him was near the end of the night when we got everyone together for a couple of games of bowling; then he came alive and loved it.

On the drive home, our SUV was absolutely weighted down, filled to the brim with boys (and me. 🙂

Simultaneous loud chatter, laughter, fighting over who gets to use the iPad next, etc.

Best sounds I’d ever heard.

I was so incredibly happy. I was floating and fighting back tears at the same time.

We’d waited a very long time for this; a milestone that usually takes 3-4 years as a parent took us 12 years – but it was worth the wait.

And the actual sleepover was amazing. We were so happy to feed them cake and ice cream and make sure they had their sleeping bags situated and a fun movie to fall asleep to and plenty of pillows and etc., etc., etc.

Things that other parents might find annoying or commonplace – we relished in every little detail.

So now, I’m addicted…!   I’m becoming that “annoying Mom” to my boys’ friends’ Moms, and setting up play dates as often as I can.

But I’m also nervous. I’m afraid it’s too good to be true.

Dynamics change, and what if Noah loses his friends?   What if they get tired of him? What if he goes from playing with others at recess back to sitting on the picnic table by himself, head down?

I’m bracing myself because I know this is a very real possibility – and make no mistake – if and when it happens, it will hurt like hell.

But this is life, and that’s OK. This even happens to neurotypical kids. And I know now that I’ve been too complacent with expecting my boys to do all the social legwork on their own. I need to try and facilitate more opportunities for them to interact with other kids, even if it isn’t perfect and even if in the midst of a play date or sleepover they are excluded, at least we’re trying.

This is especially true with Gabriel. While he’s probably too old for sleepovers now (not sure; is 12 too old?), I’m working on facilitating situations where he can interact with others his age. If he won’t initiate friendships on his own, I know I can’t force it, but I can sure try and set the stage.

And Samuel….?  He is the most aggressive and social of our boys.

I worry about him because I’m afraid that being ostracized by others will hurt him the most, as he already displays such a deep desire to be included in everything around him (a character trait that makes me so happy, but also terrifies me at the same time). I pray he doesn’t lose that drive, and that we are able to provide the interventions that he needs to be able to make and keep friends.

So, frankly, playing the Autism waiting game sucks. It’s not fun.

I suppose it makes us as parents feel left out too – to see other parents enjoying their children’s milestones so much earlier in life.

But I’ll tell you this – the waiting (even waiting for years…) makes the actual, eventual occurrence of the milestone very, very wonderful.

Even though the progress is slow, as long as my boys get there and eventually reach those milestones, I can certainly wait.