...I'm having a hard time expressing my feelings. Whenever I begin to talk about things I become stuck. If I try to write...I lose my train of thoughts. I'm not sure there's really a way to express exactly how I feel.
Before this all began I had absolutely no clue what Autism was or meant. Like possibly many I ignorantly thought of things like mental retardation and Down Syndrome whenever I heard the word Autism (I mean absolutely no offense). The only description of Autism I had in my mind was that children liked lining things like blocks up. Nothing else. What is Autism supposed to look like anyway? By looking at my son you can't tell. If he melts down or behaves a certain way you would just think he's a brat. If he's spinning in circles or banging his head you would stare and laugh. You'd say things I can't bring myself to say. Trust me I've heard.
I'll never forget the day I got my answers. I remember what the nurse told me. She said, "So you pretty much know. You just want to hear you're right." Except I didn't want to hear I was right. I wanted that doctor to tell me I was nuts like everyone one else had. I'll never forget his words. "You are describing textbook Autism. I strongly feel that he is on the spectrum." Time stood still. My heart sank. I somehow heard what he said, but didn't understand. Logan? On the spectrum? Why wasn't he telling me I was crazy?
That day something in me changed. Quite similar to how something in a woman changes when she finds out she's expecting a child. My heart grew. My love deepened. A new sense of patience, faith, and compassion came through. The process of accepting that we were in fact a special needs family began.
Patience because I would need lots of it. It's not just Autism, it's everything that came with it for Logan. Intense and I mean intense therapies. The meltdowns, the food aversions, the allergies, the GI issues, etc, etc, etc. Faith because even if I wanted it all to end I couldn't give up. Faith keeps me going. I have faith that one day it won't be this hectic. Faith that I am doing the best that I can with what I have. I have faith that I am on this path with a purpose. Compassion because my heart feels for the mothers that have been, are, and will be in my shoes. Compassion because when I see the mom at the store with what seems to be her bratty child; I no longer roll my eyes. That could be me. That has been me. I don't chuck behaviors up to being spoiled anymore.
This changes you. I worry. I cry...often. Not because I feel sorry for him but because it hurts. I feel like I am the only one that carries the guilt around. Am I? The guilt of some mornings waking up wishing it would all go away. The guilt of failing my children everyday in some way. And the fear. Fear of the future. Fear of losing myself in everything going on. Am I?
Logan's diagnosis hit me like a 2 by 4 on the side of the head. It takes time to process. I was ready to hear it, but I wasn't ready for it. No one ever is. The different evaluations. The therapists. The questions. Those hurt the most. I don't want to answer questions. Isn't there a standard paper I can fill out for everyone? Why do I have to repeat myself?
This has changed me for the better. It has made me stronger despite how weak I feel. It gives me hope as crazy as that may sound. This journey will teach me things I would otherwise probably never learn. It awoke a passion. A passion that had always been there and I didn't know how to use.
Xoxo
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