When I Look at My Son and See Autism
It’s amazing. Those days, weeks or months where you just feel like you are in a terrible slump… and then something beautiful happens to open your eyes to life’s idiosyncrasies. It makes you remember why it is you do what you do and what (or who) you do it for.
That happened today to me. I was rushing my son, Timothy, out the door to his marathon IBI session after school, and his hat’s brim poked me in the eye. It didn’t hurt, but reflex made me remark “ouch.” He stopped, and his eyes opened wide with concern. “Oh no, Mommy OK?” he asked as he brushed his fingers across my forehead over and over, searching my eyes for reassurance.
He felt remorse. Concern. Worry for someone else. My Timothy. This was the first time I’ve seen him show real, valid concern for me. Despite the hundreds, perhaps thousands of times he’s struck, kicked, scratched or head-butted me without batting an eye; he felt remorse this time. I wasn’t sure if he could feel. This moment meant more to me than words can say. It’s everything. It proves his mind is as beautiful as I always thought it was. It proves that even though the days are hard and sometimes I feel like giving up, I was meant for this, to be his mother.
The details aren’t important. What’s important is that he reached out through the invisible force field of autism and touched me. You see, sometimes I forget he’s a person and see him more as autism. It’s not right, and I don’t want you to think I condone it. But if I’m going to be honest here, as I swore I would be from the beginning, then there it is. Sometimes I allow my mind to drift to the what ifs, whys and maybes… but really those don’t help anyone, least of all Timothy.
Who cares why he is the way he is? Is it my fault? Maybe. Doesn’t matter.
What matters is now. And who I’m doing it for is Timothy.
This post originally appeared on The Book of Timothy.
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