Lately, I have found myself contemplating strength, particularly when I'm at the gym making ugly faces as I try to lift the weights just one more time. Although my primary motivation for joining a gym about 9 months ago was to help me manage stress, another reason I joined was because I felt that I needed to be as strong as possible in order to raise my autistic son and his twin brothers (one of which may be on the spectrum). Not all children on the spectrum are prone to aggression, but mine certainly is. From punching me in the face, throwing chairs at me and, tonight, throwing his seemingly benign Spiderman, mechanical toothbrush in my face, I fear for the day that he is stronger than me. I can only hope that he'll be able to manage his emotions better then and I won't have anything to fear. Unfortunately, I know better than to assume that he won't.
Having gone to the gym as often as I can possibly go, I am stronger than I have been in a long time if ever. Of course, I'm stronger in a physical sense but my inner strength is challenged on a daily basis and, unlike muscles which can stay strong with consistent exercise and good nutrition, my inner strength waxes and wanes. I am definitely not always strong but, then again, some days I seriously kick butt. Today, I wouldn't say that I was particularly weak or strong. Up until this evening, I regret that I was mostly just resigned.
Physical strength now seems so easy to me compared to being a strong mom. As I was considering this, I remembered reading about a mom who is an Olympic weightlifter (Melanie Roach) and has an autistic son. I found a quote from her to which I can relate (as much as a non-weight lifter can!): "People look at me funny when I say that weightlifting is the easiest part of my day, but it's true." Having a child with autism does build a sort of strength to handle some obstacles or challenges (such as weight lifting) by providing a clear perspective regarding what are challenges that can be met, which ones are worth fighting and which ones are simply out of our realm of control. Oftentimes, my home life is complex, stressful and challenging but, fortunately, all the many things that used to aggravate me (an unresolved issue with health insurance, a rude person, a bad hair day) are simply nothing. They are insignificant.
Tonight, I found another strength - the strength of forgiveness. After my son threw the tooth brush hard at my face, I left the room to calm down and to see if there was any damage. My nose was swelling but it would likely only be bruised in the morning. I'll admit that I felt sorry for myself. It's not pleasant to feel abused by your child. After searching for my strength and calming myself enough to understand what had just happened, I went back into my son's room. My son truly felt bad for what he did.
As background, my son has a bad ear infection which we're treating with ear drops and oral antibiotics. When my son is experiencing pain, he lashes out like a wild animal (no real exaggeration here). He hates the ear drops because he claims it hurts. I have to give him the ear drops 3 times a day. My son weighs 50 lbs and physically resists getting the drops. Earlier today, I did manage to pin him down and give him the drops but it wasn't fun for him or for me. Tonight, as my husband and I were approaching him to administer the drops, he lashed out in defense of himself (as he sees it) and threw the toothbrush to keep me from getting near his ear. Despite my throbbing nose, my husband and I gave him his drops and he screamed bloody murder but eventually settled down.
As a parent, it is my job to care for my children whether they like it or not. Clearly, he needs the ear drops. Despite my explanation about how the drops are making his ear better, all he knows is that the drops hurt really badly (from his standpoint which may be due to sensory issues), he's afraid of them and he panics when we're about to give it to him. It takes that immense strength fueled by parental love to care for a child who not only doesn't appreciate you for helping him but actively and violently resists it.
As I mentioned earlier, I went back to my son's room after I had calmed down. Sitting by his bed, I calmly explained how I loved him more than he could ever know and that nothing he did would change that. I also explained that I understood why he didn't want me to give him his drops but it was my job as his mom to take care of him. I finally explained how he and I needed to work on his aggression, that we needed to come up with a way for him to tell me he's feeling like he needs to hit or lash out so that we can help calm him down before he really hurts someone. I could tell he truly felt bad about what he did but that he still felt justified for protecting himself (which is how he sees it). I found myself comforting him, my heart throbbing more than my nose as I prayed for him. I found the strength to forgive him, understand him and to love him even more. Tomorrow, there will be more ear drops and more resistance, but maybe he and I will find a better way for me to help him without either of us getting hurt.
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