A Ray of Light

We're in for a rough couple of weeks as Darin adjusts to his new schedule. We're trying to help him understand that going to sleep when we put him to bed will help, but that seems to be when he gets his second wind. So, we struggle with getting him to go to bed, and then when he's tired in the morning, we struggle with getting him to get on the bus to go to school. Transitioning between activities has never been Darin's strong suit.

So, last night was one of those struggling nights. Darin just wouldn't do what I needed him to do. I was running out of patience from my own lack of sleep and my need to get something to eat and I pretty much lost it. I was stomping around and slamming doors and drawers as I worked on getting Darin in his "sleepings". We finally got the sleepings on and Darin tucked into bed when the tears started. I sat on the edge of his bed and apologized for my anger. I kept saying sorry over and over to try to help him understand I am mad at the autism, not mad at Darin. Something amazing occured. To understand how amazing this was, you have to understand that most autistic people have a hard time understanding and interpreting emotions. There have been plenty of times when I've scowled in anger at Darin and he just laughs because he thinks I'm pulling a funny face. And so, as I sat there telling Darin "I'm sorry," I found myself hearing him tell me that I got mad and it made him cry. I almost started to cry out of joy, but I knew that would just confuse Darin. My little autistic boy was telling me that he had realized I was mad and it made him cry! Ok, the crying part wasn't very good parenting, but we're all human and that's why I was apologizing. And then, Darin said, "I'm sorry Mommy." Maybe I'm just being hopeful, but I'm going to believe that he was apologizing for making me mad. Thank you, Darin, and thank you, Heavenly Father, for this moment of understanding with my son.

Unusual Reactions

Being the parent of an autistic child can make you look like a weirdo to a stranger. Who else would be sobbing at the intermission of The Music Man? I've seen The Music Man quite a few times, but not since I have become a parent. Seeing shy Winthrop break into song about the Wells Fargo Wagon brought me to tears in seconds. In that little boy, I saw my own little boy with his own communication problems. No, it's not like trying to overcome a lisp, but he's just about as uncommunicative as Winthop - only really answers questions that are directed to him, and most of the time, those questions have to be yes/no. I was crying for the day when my son would be able to come home from school and excitedly burst into telling me about every minute of his day. I was crying for the day when my son would be able to tell me what he wants for Christmas and what he wants to be for Halloween. I was crying for the day when my son would be able to say a sincere prayer from his heart.

Those days will come, I tell myself. Those days will come. In the meantime, I will try to remember that there are glimmers of the future - one that happened last night. As I was putting Darin to bed, he developed hiccups. It didn't really bother him and we went about his routine as usual. A few hours later, he came downstairs to excitedly exclaim, "Mommy! My hiccups are gone!" Thanks for the update, Darin, and thanks for Mommy's moment of joy.