Home » Autism » Some days, I just wish.

Some days, I just wish.

I would be lying if I said I love that my kid has autism. I would be doing him, myself, our family and friends, and anyone who reads this blog a total disservice if I were ever dishonest about raising a child with autism. It’s painful. It’s frustrating. Some days, it’s downright terrifying. Yes, the bright moments are made brighter because you appreciate them that much more. But I would take it away in an instant given the chance. When he reads this some day, I truly don’t believe he’ll be mad or upset that I’ve said it. Wouldn’t we all make life easier and better for any of our kids if we could? Wouldn’t we do whatever we could to make that happen? Autism sucks. It’s steals joy from my days, from his days. As I was walking this morning, I thought of all the things I sometimes wish. And I’m in a listing mood, so……..

Some days, I just wish:

  • I could drop him off at school and not spend the next 6.5 hours wondering if I’ll get that phone call.
  • I didn’t spend the school day mentally picturing him melting down.
  • I could yell and not have him flinch (seriously, I can’t even cheer at Big Man’s soccer games without him nearly jumping out of his chair in fright).
  • We could go the the movie theater, or restaurant, baseball game, recital, or event of any kind without having to haul along headphones, Jaws, iPad, DS, and snacks.
  • We could sit through an entire movie in the theater. We currently either take him to the bathroom four or five times, or spend half an hour or more sitting in the lobby. Why do we waste our money, you might ask? Well, he does like movies, and there are times I refuse to make my other two children suffer a minimized life.
  • I didn’t know what an IEP, 504, accommodations, adaptive PE, resource minutes, occupational therapy, or social skills group were.
  • We didn’t have to go to a psychiatrist’s office every other month.
  • I didn’t have his therapist’s phone number on speed dial.
  • He could and would play regular organized sports.
  • We could count on him going to bed and actually falling asleep at a decent hour, as well as stay in his bed all night.
  • He didn’t often look at me with a face full of pain.
  • He didn’t know he’s different.
  • I never heard my then-9-year-old tell me this is too hard, hurts too much, and he would rather be dead than face one more day.
  • I never saw my then-9-year-old standing on top of the half wall over our stairs, ready to jump.
  • I didn’t have severe anxiety every time I even think about him going to middle school next year.
  • I didn’t have to give my child mood-stabilizing drugs.
  • I could ask him to do something without wondering if it will set off a tantrum or meltdown.
  • We didn’t have to do weight checks every three months.
  • He would eat more than goldfish crackers, pizza rolls, fruit loops, chicken strips, pasta, and popcorn.
  • I didn’t have to tell him he can’t wear his sweatpants when it’s going to be 100 degrees outside.
  • I didn’t have to wear the shoes of an autism mom.
  • I didn’t have to look back on his infant and toddler-hood and over- analyze every moment, wondering what we missed.
  • He didn’t need a comfort box and breaks to get through his school day.
  • We didn’t know what autism is.

2 thoughts on “Some days, I just wish.

  1. i am sitting in the library right now with my son reminding him constantly to have ‘inside voice.’ and watching people stare as he quotes his movie lines. little do they know that my son basically would rock their world if they gave him a chance.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s