I look at London's school picture with his blonde hair and blue eyes and pilot's hat and impish grin, and I see a child that could be my sweet boy's twin. The resemblance is not lost on me. My own impish, blonde, blue eyed boy loves airplanes too. And my heart aches even more.
As a fellow autism momma, I get it. I get how hard it can be. I know how isolating and overwhelming it can be when you are dragging your 4.5' tall, 75 lb boy out of the pumpkin patch (or the store, or the restaurant, or the park, or the birthday party, or...) where he just completely lost control. I have suffered the bruises from his kicks and punches while trying to get home where he can find his calm. I know how humiliating it can feel when everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, is watching while this takes place. And I also hear the whispers: What is wrong with that boy, He's too old to act like that, He needs discipline... And I too want to scream to the world: He's not having a temper tantrum, he's melting down because it all just became too much and he cannot process it. He's autistic, not spoiled! And my heart aches.
I've been there at 2:00 am when he is sick, but doesn't understand body queues and doesn't have the language to say I'm going to be sick. I know how tired you are while you clean up vomit yet again from his bedding, or the just cleaned carpets, or even from all over the toilet when you actually did manage to get him into the bathroom. I know the feeling of vomit running down your shirt, in your hair, all over you and him as you try to show him how to lean over the toilet. But he fights you because this feeling of stuff coming up from his stomach is scarey and he doesn't understand and he's in a panic. So he fights you, trying to run away. All while still vomiting. IT IS EVERYWHERE. I've felt the exhaustion of going through it several times a night, for several nights. The feeling of defeat, that you just cannot possibly do it any more. And yet you know tomorrow is another day you have to face. And my whole body aches along with my heart.
I know what it is like to be so completely exhausted that you can no longer think straight and you probably shouldn't be driving your son to speech therapy because its no longer safe. I've lived through the months of him not sleeping for more than 3 hours a night. I've spent many nights with him in my bed, his knees in my back, his toes wedged into my calves so hard it leaves bruises. I've woken up to bloody noses from his hand flying out and hitting me in the face while he sleeps. I've tried sleeping on the 6 inches of real estate at the very edge of the bed, afraid to move him, afraid to go find somewhere else to sleep because he's finally asleep. And under no circumstances will I do ANYTHING that could possibly wake him up. So I lay there awake, with an aching heart.
I have had the days where I stand under the hot stream of water in the shower and sob. Heart wrenching, soul splitting sobs. The kind that drain every last ounce of energy you had left, if there was any. And you pray the sound of the water covers the sounds of your sobs.
I've been there, know the feeling of just wanting to crawl into bed and shut everything out and
But for as dark as those moments, hours, days, or even weeks can be; it is never, for ANY reason an excuse to cause harm. EVER. That child, that precious child, is a human being just like you or I. He lives and breathes and loves and laughs and grows. Perhaps it looks different, perhaps its not the way you or I do it. But its there, I promise you. And its worth looking for. And its worth watching. And its worth encouraging. He is worth it. Please know, he is worth it.
