I'm Here

"As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you ..."

Isaiah 66:13a

My Sweet Wyatt,

            It’s been a wild night, hasn’t it?  What I’m about to say might seem odd now, but I think someday you’ll understand. 

I don’t know what the future holds for you, but I do hope it includes parenthood.  I say that, not only because I am ecstatic at the thought of spoiling grand kids, but because I want you to know how much I really do love you.  Yes, even when you yell, scream, threaten and say hateful things to me.  But you can’t understand that until you’re on the other side of the door, listening to a screaming child from the outside. 

When you were little, so much of the world overwhelmed you, but comforting you was tricky.  I couldn’t give you eye contact, you didn’t like to rock, there could be no noise and yet you needed to know I was there.  I often would hold you facing out, so you could feel my presence and “check out” at the same time. 

Now that you’re older, your needs are different.  You are still overwhelmed by the world sometimes, but your meltdowns are very different.  In stead of banging your head repeatedly, throwing every object in your room at the wall or screaming a single tone incessantly, you throw words at me.  I want you to know, I’m still here.  I know by the frightened look in your eyes that you don’t mean, or even truly understand the hateful phrases you hurl at me.  While I may need to step away from you, or even leave the room for a while, I’m still here.  I have not given up on you.  I never will.

I also know that when you begin to calm down, the overwhelming guilt from words and actions that felt so out of your control will wash over you.  I wish I had a stronger rebuttal for your self-criticisms, but I want you to know that I mean these words with every fiber of my being.  You are NOT a mistake.  If given the choice, I wouldn't change you.  Autism is not a character flaw or a disease.  It is part of you that I love very much.  If you didn't have autism, while it’s true that you wouldn't have so many meltdowns, you also wouldn't have cracked the phonics code at three years of age.  You wouldn't be able to calculate (in your head, no less!) the exact number of chips in a bag.  You wouldn't draw valentines with video game characters proclaiming their love for me.  Half of the awesomeness I post on my Facebook page would vanish without your wit, quirky humor and amazing heart.  Your gifts are worth the work. 

I do not know what the future holds, son.  I don’t know what you’ll need, or how I will meet those needs as the teen and adult years approach.  It scares me sometimes.  I’m sure, just like now, I will have to try my darnedest and fail often.  I know you will someday be bigger, taller and stronger than I am.  You probably won’t want to rock on my lap, as you do now.  You might even want to live on your own when you graduate.  And yet, amidst the uncertainty, this much I know: we do not walk this journey alone.  As I do my best to comfort you, The Father will shower us with His perfect love and guidance.  It is because I know He walks with me, I can promise you this, Wyatt: as long as there is breath in my body, I’m here. 

All my love,

Mom