Dear Son,
I need to tell you something.
I need to tell you that there is a part of me that has been living behind a false smile for a few months now.
I need to tell you how much a simple school field trip ripped open my heart and has me completely unsettled. It created a surprisingly deep fear of what to expect in the years to come for you. The teacher who told me that we need to toughen you up? I get it. I understand where she’s coming from. She wants you to experience tough moments while still in such a kind-hearted school because these kids know you, they accept you and it will be so much easier to go there for shelter when you start experiencing the mean.
The teacher who suggested we might want to be open to HSP classes? I get that too. (you wouldn’t have known it when I burst into tears during the parent-teacher interview). Resources in our area are near stripped clean. Like a hyena on a zebra, there really is nothing left. The only way for you to continue excelling is with that amazing one on one help. Without it, you will not be able to stay focused enough to complete the task in the classroom and required to access the special needs room. I need to tell you we don’t want this to happen but recognize this might be the only way to keep you propelling forward.
I need to tell you I see warning signs everywhere. Peripherally. The strange stares as you hum or suddenly fling yourself on the ground, the frustration of friends as you get too close for comfort, the giggles of kids who don’t know you/don’t understand as they form a quick opinion of who you are.
I need to tell you that I am ready to go after anyone who might treat you differently or wrongly. I am like Ralphie in the Christmas Story creating scenarios of getting back at the bullies when it just…becomes…too….much.
I need to tell you I see your sister confused and angry because there is a slight difference in the way we treat both of you and I feel awful about that.
I need to tell you we are organizing a special session with our speech therapist to come and try to explain what Autism is to our friends.
But first…I need to tell you you have Autism.
I am dreading it.
I would like to say “Why fix what’s not broken” but I can’t. Things are different, they are changing and I would rather work with our friends to have their kids on our side than be the jerks who join in on the teasing or even eye rolls.
I would like to say how much I love that your heart is pure gold. Your kindness and generosity of spirit so beautifully innocent. You love unconditionally because to you, there is no other version of love. You take such pleasure in the simplest of gestures, the sweetness of a moment, you help remind me so often of truly focusing on what’s important cause to you, its just a beautiful sunset or intense excitement over the reason round of Super Mario.
I would like to say I got your back. And so do many others.
That we will get through these years and it might be tough. We don’t know the answers but we will always persevere cause as a family, we truly are a team.
With deepest love,
Mom
When we have to tell our children about an illness that will affect them every day for their entire lives, it’s hard. Once they understand it though, and understand what makes them tick and the tools they can use to get to a place where they can be successful it is awesome. As one who walked the road of the unknown for so long, once Rachel knew and understood her own body and mind she was able to soar. Sending love and hugs.
I missed this comment initially. Thank you for the awesome encouragement Hollie. Much appreciated.
oh honey – I just want to tell you that telling Aiden he had autism went so very well. He knew he was different already and he just accepted it with a few questions and very few problems. We’ve discussed it many times over the years. It has been so good for him to know. He had a counsellor who went through a process of helping him understand how Autism makes him different from the kids around him in his classes (or wherever) and that helped him SO MUCH. He was not oblivious to the fact that kids treated him differently and now he knows why. Now he has the words to say “I have autism” when necessary. It is empowering.
Also I know how this all feels and I’m sorry. xo
Ours is to hurt, so that their’s is to shine, no matter for how long. There will come a time in the future when the pain will still hurt, but the gains will help heal. I firmly tell myself that every day, even if they are the tiniest moments of what we dreamed of for our babies before they were born. If our children have the voice to be able to say they are different, even if they can’t say why, then we need to give them that leverage. Ironically, for children for whom understanding abstract concepts is hard, their diagnosis is wholly abstract to them right now. It makes it so much harder than anyone realizes. I have a book to share with you which could help, written for kids, to encourage them to be friends with children who have ASD. And I have the biggest hugs for you all xoxox
I’ve worked one-on-one and with a team to support children with diverse abilities, so I’m somewhat familiar with the ins and outs of being with them, but I had never really thought about the fact that parents will have to tell them about the specific difference they have to work with. This can’t be an easy conversation for anyone.
Good luck to you! I hope your son realizes his potential to be amazing in every way he surely can be, and not let a label define him.
Yes I dreaded this. I have triplets with autism and was afraid for the longest time that Sara, my most highly functional, that she knew she was different. When she learned that she has autism, it was tough. Still asks me if there is a cure. It’s sad.