My UNO, my first

When my son was born, I remember being almost numb with emotion.  There was too much to process, too many feelings for my brain to acknowledge.  Suddenly feeling weightless without my baby inside me, I was stunned by the newness of motherhood and my maternal responsibilities.  My small, healthy baby boy peering at me with penetrating eyes, held me still in his gaze as I held him with arms that had been reaching for him for years.  In the small hospital room with my husband, we began our adaptation into this next stage in our life by doing what must be done and what we'd always dreamed of doing.  From the necessary duties of changing his diaper (and his blanket and the changing pad due to our ineptness at changing a baby boy) to holding his little, tiny hand in ours wondering who he was inside this tiny, little body.

One thing that had struck me and that I've never forgotten was a strong sense of recognition.  The way he moved his arms or turned his head felt like my own movements.  I recognized these movements as the same ones that only a few hours ago I had felt within my own stomach.  Here was the child I had been nurturing within me for months, to whom I had read to every night as only a first time mother might do. 

The feelings I experienced with my son in the first few hours of his life were later followed by a lot of confusion and a strong sense of inadequacy.  From his resisting being breast fed to his being diagnosed with colic and later reflux, my husband and I were dumbstruck by how difficult it was to raise our darling boy.  Raising him became such a matter of endurance and I found myself constantly challenged to my core with fatigue, exhaustion and despair.  Of course, throughout the raising of my son, there were always beautiful moments and I will never forget them.  For instance, I remember rocking with him peacefully as snow fell outside (we were in Texas then and this was a rare and beautiful thing).  I remember holding his sleeping body and marveling at his preciousness.

For so long, our relationship with our son has been reactionary because we didn't know he was autistic until recently.  As is so common in families with an autistic child, we "walked on eggshells" to try to maintain the peace in the house.  Of course, this is impossible and leads to feelings of failure, blame and despair.  Now, though, I feel that I am reconnecting with my tiny baby who is growing up and becoming a young boy.  Less of our time has been spent cushioning life for him and has been more directed toward quality time together. 

Recently, my son and I have begun an almost daily ritual of playing UNO together.  This is such a simple game and has no inherent value other than a source of entertainment but, for me, I am filled with such pleasure as I play a game with my child and I delight in his enjoyment of it.  Though his methods are totally predictable to me (since he tends to stick to a routine way of doing things), I delight in his amusement as he puts down a card which makes me draw more.  His amusement fills the room and fills my heart and I just want to hug him and let him know how precious he is.

As he sleeps soundly tonight after another good day, I feel thankful for how things have improved since his diagnosis.  Thanks to the wonderful care that we have received and the attentiveness of the professionals assisting us.  I can only hope that this trend will continue and that there will be more times such as when we play UNO that I can cherish my son as I did when he was first placed in my arms.