My Atypical Son

IMG_7619Social media is fake. I truly hope this is not an epiphany for any of you.  I don’t think we intend for it to be that way, but let’s be honest. I try to only post pictures that I have one chin. You won’t see pics of my ample backside or on the days my adult acne can rival that of a 15 year old. I try to be real and transparent, but I’m still human.  We only put out there what we choose for the world to see. I’m all for it!! I don’t want to read about your husband’s affair or your daughter’s jailed boyfriend (as entertaining as a front row seat to the drama may be). But this altered reality can also skew how we see life.

I tend to think everyone has it together, except of course, me. Everyone makes their children super nutritious, organic meals and they never yell. Parents spend hours with their children playing minecraft or playing legos and never complain. Faces and marriages and childrens’ behaviors are always perfect. My feelings of inadequacy, especially as a parent, can hang on me like a hair in a biscuit. It’s a thing…have you ever seen a hair cooked into a biscuit??

Sometimes (most of the time) I feel like surely everyone else has this parenting thing in the bag and I am left paying for the therapy bills for the kids I have screwed up. In these situations, what you really need is someone to say, “I see you. I’ve been there. I know what you’re going through.” You need someone to say, “Me too.”

This is how I feel as I am watching the new Netflix series Atypical.  Let’s start with a disclaimer. My son is not exactly like Sam, from the show. But both having ASD, they are more similar than not. People with ASD usually have a particular fascination with something. Sam’s is arctic penguins or something like that. It’s hard to hear the whole dialogue through my sobs. My little has a slightly cooler fascination which is music. He is completely obsessed. It’s like his body has to play an instrument or he will simply die. I’m known to be dramatic but this is legit. As I watch Sam navigate the dating world with all of the misguided (at best) and profoundly ridiculous (at worst) advice that he receives from his peers, I vow to never stop homeschooling him for the duration of exactly forever. As I watch the heartache and ridicule he goes through, my shoulders heave and the ugly cry is unstoppable. As if my poor child has not already endured enough.

I know my little is only 8. But I have literally prayed for his wife since he was in the womb. I prayed that she would love him and accept him for who he is and appreciate his talents. That was before I knew he had autism and before I even knew what his talents were. Before I knew that he had the most precious curly hair or that his entire face lights up when he is laughs. Before I knew that his brain worked differently and his talents would far exceed my own.

I have heard it said that I can’t shield him from the world forever. Hear me when I say that is and never will be my intention. But I would like him to go into the world on the same playing field. With the same skills and coping mechanisms that others are equipped with. That only seems fair.

My sadness with ASD lies here…Will he ever be on the same playing field?

I think the mother on the show was written after my life. Well, take out the adultery thing but let’s not split hairs. She has arranged her entire life to make her son’s life as normal as possible. Always trying to prevent that next meltdown or heartache or disappointment. She becomes neurotic and slightly crazy.  Most importantly, she has lost herself. She is an autism mom. She has thrown her life into that role and all others fall below. I would be willing to bet this is the story for most moms (or dads) of kids with special needs.

We all want our children to succeed. We all want to send them into this world with all the tools they need to be productive little humans that aren’t a drain on society. I want to raise my children to be leaders, to love others above themselves, and most importantly, to put God first in all they do. Some days I wonder if I’m even making a dent.

Is it fair to pray for his wife when I am unsure that his anxiety will ever allow him to live alone, or drive a car, or (for the love of humanity and all things good) to even sleep in his own bed?  It’s daunting, if I’m being honest.

But let me tell you about the flip side to that coin. My little fuzzy headed, perfect boy has taught me the importance of celebrating victories, no matter how small. He has taught me the importance of unconditional love. I know the importance of not worrying about tomorrow, although I continue to struggle. I know that God has a plan. His kisses and hugs and snuggles are even more precious because I don’t get them often.  He has taught me that I am strong. I can endure far more than I thought I could. He has taught me that my struggles seem minuscule in comparison to his own. And he has taught me to never put a limit on progress.

I may never be able to tell my son that I understand how he sees the world. I may never be able to give him that, “me too”. But I can promise him that I will be beside him through it all.

 

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