Now that it's been over a year since Alex was diagnosed with autism and almost 2 years since we realized something was amiss with his development, I've had some time to adjust to our new reality. It's hard to imagine any more what it felt like to think I had a typically developing child. The more time goes on, the more comfortable I feel with my new reality. A while ago, I read a blog post (and recently had a similar conversation with a fellow autism mom) where a mother said that she was asked if she would take away her child's diagnosis if she had the choice. She responded with "For him, I would, but for me, I wouldn't." I think as time goes on, I agree more and more with that statement. If I could change Alex and have him be "neurotypical," I probably would do it for his sake. I would do it so that he would have a better chance at fitting in socially and a smaller chance of having a stigma follow him through life. I would do it so that he wouldn't be frustrated by his sometimes inability to communicate with others, and his apparent discomfort in situations which are inexplicable to me. But if it were only for my sake, I would keep things the way they are. I've only just begun this journey - Alex isn't even 4 years old - and I already feel that my life has changed for the better. For one thing, having gone through very difficult times, I feel emotionally stronger, and I feel empowered to advocate for, not just my own son, but for other individuals with special challenges; a feeling I will undoubtedly carry with me into future endeavors. The meekness and shyness that I once embodied is long gone, replaced with confidence and boldness that I never could have imagined. And when it comes to Alex himself, well, I just love him to the very core (not that I think any parent doesn't love their child!) He doesn't talk much, but his personality exudes sweetness and I wouldn't change that for the world. I've grown quite fond of some of his behaviors, too; for example his new-found satisfaction with putting cans and paper into the recycling bins, and the pride he feels when he's praised for it.
In a way, it's fitting that my son ended up outside the norm (what is "normal" anyway?) I've always felt outside the norm myself in my adult life. My husband and I got married very young (I was 19, he was 22) and people really raised eyebrows at us - especially because we didn't live together before marriage. But we're coming up on our 9th anniversary and have a great marriage. We own a house which we love in the town we sought after, and are raising two beautiful children. If I had pursued the 4-year college experience, I most likely wouldn't have this life with my husband yet. I love my life the way it is so if someone asked if I would go back and change it, my response would be "probably not." Of course there are some things I would have done differently in hindsight, but can't everyone say that? On a less important note, we've chosen to go without cable television for all of the time we've been together. While it seems insignificant, many people we've discussed it with say that they can't imagine life without cable. When Verizon and Comcast salespeople knock on our door every other week, it's sort of amusing to explain that we only use internet. Over and over, I could easily put the words "does not compute" in their mouths. We do have a television but do not miss cable TV. My point is, there are many examples, significant and not, where mine and my husband's lives fall outside what our peers expect from us.
So it feels almost fitting that our child is outside the norm. We've never really known what it was like to relate to our peers and having a special needs child falls under that blanket. Over the years I've gotten used to thinking to myself, "yeah, that doesn't apply to me." The "me" has turned to "us" or "Alex" in a lot of cases but it's still a similar and familiar feeling. I wish my son didn't have to face life being different while I had the privilege of choosing to be different in many ways. I can only hope and pray that as an adult he'll be as happy as I am, right now, raising a wonderful, sweet, special boy and his splendid little sister.
