When my son, Leo, who is on the autism spectrum, was just four years old, he managed to consume nearly an entire foam puzzle while I was taking a shower. When I emerged, I found him sitting there, looking perfectly fine, his bright blue eyes blinking at me without a hint of distress. My heart raced with a mix of confusion and concern.
“Why on earth would you do that?” I asked, my voice shaky with worry.
Without any visible reaction, he tilted his head up and simply responded, “What do you think you are, a goat?” Well, he didn’t actually say that; he couldn’t speak due to his autism, but I could almost hear his thoughts.
I shook my head firmly and declared, “NO! NO EAT!” while pointing at the remnants of the chewed-up foam. In response, Leo imitated my head shake repeatedly, seemingly unfazed.
Soon after, I bundled him and his younger brother into their snowsuits and rushed to the Children’s Emergency Room. The doctors assessed the situation and determined that the foam wouldn’t pose significant harm; however, they admitted him for observation. Perhaps they felt sympathy for me, a pregnant mother grappling with two toddlers, one of whom had a knack for consuming non-food items. I didn’t mention my six-year-old daughter who was likely waiting for me at school, or worse, wandering our neighborhood.
In the hospital, I requested a psychiatric consultation. Initially, I let my frustrations show, but after receiving a few curious glances, I opted to express my concerns more calmly. Fortunately, the resident I spoke with proved to be wrong about the availability of a child psychiatrist.
Since Leo’s diagnosis at the age of two, we had explored various therapies and support systems. I was overwhelmed with fear, constantly questioning whether I was doing enough for him. I often found myself curled up in the corner of the kitchen, immobilized by the seemingly insurmountable task of addressing Leo’s behaviors. On other days, I was consumed by elaborate therapy plans to manage his rituals and distractions. But despite my efforts, we had never seen a child psychiatrist, and with the looming possibility of another puzzling incident, I had countless questions.
The psychiatrist was straightforward yet compassionate. He delivered a mix of truth and reassurance that day. For the first time, someone candidly addressed Leo’s autism, a condition that was becoming more prominent in discussions around us. “Your son has classic autism,” he stated. “There’s no cure. Anyone who claims they’ve ‘cured’ their child had a different experience.” Rather than feeling devastated, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
It became clear that I could stop fighting an unseen adversary; the fight was exhausting and ultimately fruitless. A nagging truth had been bothering me for some time: Leo didn’t appear to be unhappy with his autism. In fact, he often seemed genuinely content.
From that moment on, I shifted my mindset. This didn’t mean I stopped seeking occupational or speech therapy or that I didn’t guide him when he would bounce around the living room while others were trying to watch a movie. I remained committed to providing him with the best opportunities. I simply began to adjust my expectations, focusing on helping Leo be the best version of himself.
Most importantly, I learned to coexist with autism in our lives, allowing my son to navigate his world with his unique traits. It became a part of who he is, just like his vibrant blue eyes and his occasional fondness for foam.
This journey taught me that instead of resisting, I could embrace autism, welcoming it into our lives with open arms. While my approach may not work for everyone, I found a sense of peace in acceptance. I understand some parents might view this acceptance as a weakness or a sign of giving up, but for me, it represented moving forward together with my son.
As a mother, I’ve come to terms with Leo’s diagnosis. It’s not up for debate; it’s a part of our shared experience. We are all mothers to our unique children, regardless of how they may appear to outsiders.
Let’s unite our energies on the real issues that matter, rather than becoming entangled in divisive debates. After all, there are bigger battles we can fight together, like advocating against misinformation in the autism community.
This article first appeared on April 23, 2014.
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Summary:
In navigating the challenges of raising a child with autism, Emily Hartman shares her transformative journey of acceptance. Faced with her son Leo’s behaviors and needs, she learned to embrace autism as a part of his identity rather than viewing it as a problem to be solved. Through therapy and support, she focused on helping Leo be his best self while finding peace in acceptance, ultimately advocating for unity among parents facing similar experiences.