Adaptation

Before my son was diagnosed, my husband and I found ourselves confused, frustrated, angry, depressed.  Why was our child behaving like this?  We struggled to find ways to help him.  I'd read parenting books trying to find ways to help him.  I frequently laughed at certain suggestions on how to get him to behave.  They simply weren't writing about my son.  We often struggled with the feeling that we had no clue what we were doing, that we were creating the chaos ourselves.  We also struggled with the idea that our son just wasn't a very nice person sometimes.  When we weren't blaming ourselves, we were blaming him and vice verse.  Thankfully, we know now that there is no one to blame and we have to forgive ourselves for our previous ignorance.

In just a matter of months, our strange world began to make sense.  At times, I find myself fascinated by my son's condition.  I often step back and observe him.  I have a chance now to understand his perspective better and I am significantly more patient with him.  What before would lead me to head banging frustration, is now more easily understood.  Although our world would not make sense to many, what is important is that it makes more sense to us.  It is from this perspective that we are more prepared and equipped to support our son and his brothers.  When you have a child with autism, everyone in the family is affected even if you're only 3 years old.

Our family is and will continue to be a place of constant adaptation and compromise.  Already, his young brothers understand that certain toys scare their older brother, that the sound on a certain train is too hard for his ears.  Once they understand that a certain toy can't be near their brother, they have been very good about not playing with them near him. 

Likewise, our son with autism has had to learn that his brothers can watch certain shows even if he doesn't like how they sound.  He has to go to another room or floor if the sound is bothering him.  I will admit that he doesn't do this without a fight sometimes because hearing a sound that bothers him can unglue him somewhat and any subsequent, rational discussion gets tossed out the window once his anxiety kicks in.  If, however, we can avoid him hearing it prior to its being turned on, he often willingly leaves the room to avoid the sound.

My husband and I have had to compromise endless things to accommodate our son.  Activities that we would like to do are not possible at this stage in our son's development.  For instance, we could never take the whole family to a movie which would be terrifying to our son.  Often, it is a struggle to take him anywhere that doesn't involve trains, planets or some other interest of his.  Trying to make a child with autism do something they don't want to do is so exhausting that we intentionally don't try to do more things than entirely necessary.  We're happy if our son is pleasant and cooperative at home and we often prefer not to rock the boat unless we really need to.  Unfortunately, this limits our lives at this point but we don't intend for this to be permanent.  For now, though, we have bigger fish to fry so to speak.

Our son is learning to adapt to our family as well.  Although autism has no cure, we are doing our best to teach him to behave in a more acceptable manner.  For instance, our son is incredibly intense.  Like a flip of a switch, he can go from extremely happy to profoundly angry.  Boom.  "We're there," is a phrase we frequently throw out to indicate our son has gone into "Aspie mode" which typically involves yelling.  Although our son may not be able to control his mood swings, we expect him to change his tone with us if he wants us to listen.  Using the 1-2-3 method, we immediately say, "that's 1" as soon as he starts and usually he apologizes and begins in a better tone although he often gets worked up again right afterward and so we count some more.  Although it takes a while to communicate like this, we're making progress because he is consciously modifying his tone even if only temporarily.  Neither my husband and I can tolerate being yelled at (and we shouldn't) but people who don't know our son have no reason to tolerate it and could possibly respond aggressively to him.  For his own protection and for his chances for a happy life, he will need to continue to adapt.

Over the last few months, I have felt myself changing, and I have begun to redefine what I perceive as normal.  Our normal is not the norm for most people.  I'm learning to not only accept it but, at times, even embrace it.  There are certainly very cool aspects of having a son with Asperger's.  I love his mind, how brilliant he is.  He loves to learn and inhales knowledge like no one I have ever met.  I love to watch his face light up in wonder when he learns about something new.  It's addictive for him and for me.  I love how he is ferociously protective of his brothers even if his brothers don't appreciate it.  When he latches on to a rule, there is no way he will break it (although this can be tricky if the rule needs to be changed).  He is incredibly loving and tenderhearted with real as well as pretend people and objects.  When he is happy, his joy permeates everything. 

Would I want a cure for my son's autism?  Not if it would change him so profoundly that it took away his magic.  Of course, I would love for him to be happier, for him to have real friends instead of pretend ones, for his anxieties to lessen.  Even as I struggle to understand him and even as I worry about his future, I love him for who he is even if he tests me in ways I have never been tested before.  I can't describe how painful it is to feel so helpless, to feel so inadequate as a parent.   From that, though, comes insight and wisdom.  I owe him the strength he has given me.  I love my son autism and all.