A Love Story

The local radio station is running a contest. They are asking readers to send in their love stories. The top stories will be posted on line and voted on by the general listening public. The winner receives a dinner for two and a gift certificate to a local jewelry store. I'm really not interested in the prize, but I've been very tempted to enter our story.

You see, our love story is not full of roses and candy and date nights. In fact, I don't remember the last time I received flowers from my husband. But ours is a love story none the less. It goes something like this:

I met my husband almost 15 years ago through mutual friends. We were both divorced and single parents of preschool aged boys. After 6 years together, we married almost 9 years ago. 6 years is a long time to wait, we were both a bit gun shy. And we knew that blending families is hard which is why the divorce statistics for 2nd marriages increases from 50% to 60%. But we were committed and it was working even with some bumps along the way.

Then 7 years ago, we received unexpected news. We were having another child. This was not planned. Our boys were almost 10 years old. We had other plans. They would be off to college in 8 years, we could do something different. We had been planning to semi-retire, move, see the world, etc. Now, we needed to adjust all that and get ready to welcome a new bundle of joy.

I won't lie, tears were shed. But once the shock wore off and all the "advanced maternal age" tests came back "normal", we settled into welcoming our bonus. But the surprises were not over. A "difficult baby" eventually led to a diagnosis of autism and a host of other comorbid diagnoses. Now we were not only a blended family but also a "special needs" family. And those statistics are even worse. Divorce rates for families with a special needs child are said to be 80-90%. Those odds are not very encouraging. And here is where our love story really kicks in.

My husband has continued to work at a job that he had plans to leave. He goes every day because we need not only the steady income, but more importantly, the health insurance. He comes home every day between 3:30 and 4:00. No going out for a drink after work. He comes home to give me a break and spend time with our son. He rarely goes out with the guys.

Day in and day out, he is in the autism trenches with me. He changes pull ups on a 7 year old. He acts excited about the same damn airplane video for the 100th time that day. He stays home from gatherings with our son, encouraging me to go and enjoy myself. He takes numerous hours off from work to attend IEP meetings, doctor appointments, evaluations, etc. He pulls our 4'4" tall, 65 pound son on a tag along bike, and the child does not peddle. Many nights he gives up his side of our bed when Bambam has a rough night. We now joke that the guest room is daddy's room. He understands when I fall asleep on the couch by 9:00 many nights in a row from complete exhaustion.

My husband and I have not had a weekend away in over 7 years. I'm not sure when we will. I may not remember the last time I received flowers, but I do remember the last time he stayed home with Bambam and encouraged me to go have some "me time". I do remember the last time he paid thousands of dollars for doctors appointments and medications and therapies instead of getting a new car or a new anything. I do remember when he went out to play in 16 degree weather because Bambam was already out the door. I do remember that he always gets in the pool with Bambam, no matter how cold it is. I do remember that he is still here, everyday, being my tag team partner in this wrestling match called autism.

Now, none of this is to say that he is perfect. None of us are. He can be impatient. He sometimes yells when he shouldn't. And he's not very good at recognizing when he needs to step back and refuel. But he's here. Everyday. Doing his part. Loving our son.

I read almost daily about autism dads who leave. And daily I'm thankful that my husband is still here. A long time ago I was told that "love is the act of living out a commitment". If so, my husband is the definition of love. It may not be all roses and violins, but this is our love story. And I think its beautiful.