I Know Why He Has Autism

I am a much different mother than I expected to be.

I am the kind of mother who cares less about grades on a report card and more about teaching my kids how to load the dishwasher. I worry less about trophies on the mantle and more about kindness on the bus.

Perhaps God/the universe/genetics/my in-laws decided to give me a child with special needs so I would learn how to wait. The best things in my life so far are the ones I have waited for; an unexpected sentence, a surprise smile, a quick one-armed hug in the hallway.

The thing is, I will probably never know why I gave birth to a baby with autism, any more than I know why six is the magic number of pillows at bedtime. Some things in life are simply meant to remain a mystery.

But I do know that no matter how hard I think it is to have a child with special needs, it is a million times harder for him.

On the days my heart is squeezing, this child’s heart is shattering.

When I am gasping for air amidst autism’s rising tide, this child is nearly drowning.

Underneath it all — the tantrums about a missing pillow and the small orange vial with the little white pills and hundreds of questions about the schedule, I know he’s trying to tell me something else entirely.

Make room for me. I am here.

The thing is, once in a lifetime, you get the chance to meet a person who is unlike any other person you have ever met.

A person who is complicated, and honest, and tenacious, and pure.

This person, well, he changes who you thought you were.

And who you planned to become.

He is traveling a lonesome journey of one, yet changing the lives of many.

He is a boy named Jack. He is my child. He is my son.eced55c6ae4fce8fb71320d457638691e3224106.jpg

Next page

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *