You ask any parent of a special needs child and a common thread you will find among them is the explanation as to why their children are the way they are: it is what it is.
Far gone are the days when they stopped blaming themselves, or each other. Far gone are the days when they used to try and rationalize why their child isn’t like Jimmy next door. They’ve heard the theories-is it a conspiracy, genetics perhaps-all of these are folly to them anymore.
An autism parent hearing, I don’t know how you do it, is not a fucking compliment! What that tells us is that you really don’t like it when our kids are around.
Family functions? Oh, you can forget about sitting down and relaxing and having a good old adult conversation! It seems like the smallest of things attracts an autistic child’s mind.
Earlier this week, we went to my sister’s house for supper. We were outside smoking and she asked if I thought my youngest is on the spectrum. To be honest, yes, I do. He has all the hallmarks of an autistic child.
Another child that can’t say his own name. Another child that can’t talk, or potty train as easy. And while daddy is still his hero, he still can’t say, “I love you, daddy!”
I have a lot to be thankful for, I know. And I know that there are people out there that have it far worse than I do. But the only way I can quantify it in my mind, the ONLY way I can relieve some of the guilt and stress, is by simply acknowledging that it is what it is.
Tomorrow is another day…