Thursday, November 6, 2014

477,800 miles (to the moon and back)

In a completely ordinary room of a teaching hospital, not unlike the room in which he was born, we finally got the puzzle piece to complete this five-year jigsaw puzzle. Each piece alone may not look like much, but combined it creates a picture of who my beautiful child is. He is creative and unique, and his mind does not see the world in the same way we do. Perhaps it is the complexity of the world that becomes the burden he wears, the reason behind his meltdowns, the explanation of his compulsions. He sees, feels, and hears complexity in everything: the brightness of lights that may seem dim to you, the smell of an ordinary odor, and the sounds we all but tune out. I understand now that he gravitates towards adults because he has learned that we are patient with his vocabulary, but his peers too easily become disinterested in attempting to listen to babble they do not comprehend. Along with all of this new understanding comes a sense of fear. I don’t fear at all that he won’t thrive in whatever environment he is placed. This kid has grit, resilience, and spirit. I do fear that this new word to describe his characteristics will scare away friends. Will parents whisper to other parents at the park that Logan has autism, and their children will overhear, and he will never be invited to a birthday party because they are uninformed about what that means? Logan has never had a best friend. My heart aches for what he may face as we move forward. Part of me feels like after today’s diagnosis things will never be the same, but I know that’s wrong. I knew that things would never be the same the day he was born. The day I sat with him in the NICU as he recovered from a traumatic birth, reading him “Guess How Much I Love You?” I looked at his tiny body, connected to tubes and machines, and cried and cried as I read: Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, ‘I love you right up to the moon-and back.’ Nothing changed today except that I held him a little tighter when I hugged him because I knew he might need a little extra understanding. Not everyone will understand him. I can’t even say I completely understand him. But even on those days when a meltdown is unavoidable, stares from strangers are inevitable, and cold words from even friends are certain, I do understand that my love for him will always go right up to the moon and back. 

No comments:

Post a Comment