Camp Autism

I remember when my son was young, I would see articles about autism and I'd think that, even though my son was challenging, at least he wasn't autistic. As far as I was concerned, autism meant he wouldn't talk, that he'd be unemotional, that he'd be so obviously different. I must have known something though because I'd often scan the articles looking for anything that might be like my son. I occasionally found hints in these articles but I'd always find something that didn't fit him and I'd sigh in relief.

As time went on, I started to wonder about Asperger's Syndrome because I knew of someone in our family who was diagnosed with it. Like my son, this child was very focused on particular interests and was capable of learning an immense amount of detail about that interest. I'd ask questions about whether my son might be similar to this child and was repeatedly reassured that he wasn't. In time, I learned that autism is so varied and is manifested in a wide range of degrees. It truly takes a professional familiar with autism in its various forms to make an accurate diagnosis.

When he was diagnosed, we crossed from one camp of parents to another. Before, I would be around other parents and, even though my son would exhibit unusual behavior, I still felt like I sort of belonged or that we'd get on top of his behaviors enough that we eventually would. Now, we've joined the many, many families affected by autism as well as the large community of families raising children with disabilities. I feel arrogant now at how relieved I used to be when I thought we were a "normal" family. I have crossed over from the "normal" parent camp to the "disabled" family camp.

Before today, my interaction with my new camp mates was via the internet. I read heart felt advice typed on autism forums, viewed blogs posted by a mom in my shoes and, more personally, chatted with the mom of the autistic child in our family about this new camp I'd joined. Today, however, I was able to meet some of these moms in flesh and blood, to hear their stories, sense the similarities and differences of our experiences and to laugh about things only we could understand. It was a relief. Now I realize that this is the camp where my family belongs. Of course, we'll still spend time with our former camp mates but with a new understanding of who we are. It's not that we love our former campers less than before. We just have acquired a new accent that requires translation around those raising neurotypical children.

Like speaking your native language, it's nice to speak with ease and freely without translation. However, I will strive to bridge the gap between our two camps. We're all human after all, one no better than the other, and we must preserve the bond of love among us by forging deep understanding of one another.