Changes in the Wind

Ever have that moment where you are just sitting on the couch and have so much swirling in your head that you feel like it's going to explode?

Yeah. That's me tonight.

So I decided to write. Whatever comes out, comes out. :)

There is so much going on, so much to say, so much to think. It's very overwhelming.  We have a lot going on here on the home front.  Too much.  It's making me somewhat of an emotional mess.

On the plus side I did get to take the kiddo to a new psychologist this past Monday.  I took him to an Autistic focused clinic that is known for its residential treatment program.  I'm not putting him in residential treatment, its just known for that and has some top notch specialists.  That's exactly what we need...

The office was two hours away but lets face it, I'd drive to California if I needed to.  It was nice. We sat there with the intake psych for 2 hours covering absolutely everything you can think of, going over every detail of our lives, from structure to sensory needs to sleep to behaviors to you name it.  She asked great appropriate questions. She really took her time with us.

In early April we get to go meet with the psychiatrist there, discuss his current meds, and figure out the outpatient treatment plan.  I'm really hopeful that we will be able to finally get somewhere and get this kiddo the help he needs.  I'm so tired of watching my son struggle like this.  He shouldn't be.  He's such a happy, well loved child with so much going for him.  I will write more about this process later.

The influx of appointments and dedicated needs for him is absorbing a lot of time.  As many of you know, I returned to full time work not too long ago.  I made the painful and tough decision last week to withdraw from that.  My job has been really fantastic with the transition and since it is with the Federal government at the local VA hospital, they are able to make the accommodations I need and are allowing me to become intermittent.  So I will be able to work a couple of pre-scheduled days a week.  This will allow me to have the flexibility to do what I need for my son.  There are so many phone calls and appointments to be had when you are trying to get things set right!  I will sub at the local schools to fill in the voids.

It seems like a lot, right?  The plus side to this is that since Sparky now rides the bus every morning and every afternoon he won't see the variance in my schedule.  Considering how well (not!) he does with the craziness this is a really great thing.  Everything will stay the same for him, stay consistent.  It's my world that will go nuts! :)

Of course, he will notice when he wakes up and I'm still here in the morning (I presently leave around 7am for work and he's usually asleep at that time).  He will no doubt enjoy that. I know I will!

In the long run it's all for Sparky and that's what gets me through all of this.  He is my focus, as he should be.

This change in schedule will also hopefully allow me to get back to running again.  I could use the movement as it really helps with my migraines.  They are a little out of control right now.  It will no doubt do wonders for my own mental health and what is left of my sanity... ;)  Then I can create my game plan to get the kiddo out with me.  On his scooter of course. :)

So many changes going on around here.  In the long run, it is what is best.  I just have to keep reminding myself of that. I've said it before, and I will say it again in closing: We adjust, we adapt, we overcome. :)

Dear Teacher

On one hand I can understand how innocent you think your project is.  Just send home a paper about ancestry and ask kids to have their parents fill in the ancestry for mom, dad, and both sets of grandparents.  They return with it, you have a great class discussion, everyone learns something.

I have one problem with that. The traditional mom-dad-kiddo family is not so traditional any more...

What about students in those non-traditional families? Those in foster care? Single parent households? Adopted? Kinship care? Protective custody?

What about them? They may not know. They may not ever know.

Did you think about the families who had to deal with parents who’s rights were revoked? Families who were abandoned? Children in foster care who will never know anything about their birth families?

Imagine my shock when my son produced a family tree paper asking for his family ancestry. Imagine my shock when he asked me if he had a father and why he couldn’t remember him.

Let me share something with you, you can’t spring something like this on families and assume all will be well.  My honest response was not pretty. Truthful. But not pretty.

It shouldn’t matter. Honestly, I didn’t want to really discuss it because it shouldn’t matter. He technically does not exist. But thanks to you... He now does.

My son isn’t alone in how much he struggles.  Many children, disabled or not, struggle mightily.  Can you imagine how the child without one or both of their parents feels when they bring this paper home and can’t fill it out?

That is the case with us. Technically, his father does not exist. He is not a conversation that happens.

You see, a number of years ago the court decided that he was, in fact, a rather crappy and immature human being and revoked his parental rights. They saw him as unfit if you will.

You read that right, the court revoked his parental rights to his child. Not that he ever wanted anything to do with the kiddo...

Let that sink in.

I’m sure you’ll feel mortified when you read my note and find out that his father’s rights were revoked and that until now, he didn’t even know he should have one. He is not a topic of discussion.

The kicker? I guess they really don't share custody information despite saying they do and requiring me to prove it to the school with a copy of the order... Well, so much for that.

I’m really surprised that you would make such a basic assumption about families in this day and age.  At least warn the families that such a project is coming home. Let the family prepare for how to answer those questions or to opt out.  It’s really not something you can spring on someone like that.  I know I’m really bad at making things up on the spot...

It has really opened some wounds for me in many ways... The kiddo is struggling enough and now he knows his own father couldn't be bothered with him. He doesn't know why but I do. I won’t write it here because it’s reasoning that needs to come directly from me to my son, but I will comfortably say that he needs to burn in hell for what he said to me and the language he used...

These kinds of questions, especially without any preparation, can (and have) become a serious issue in a household like mine.  It’s not a subject that can be taken lightly or easily.

I went to Facebook with this because I was so upset.  My concerns and upset were shared by many from different backgrounds. I have adopted friends who especially felt the pain of it having done these types of assignments in the past but were left invalidated by it.  

Every family is different.  Family dynamics are different than they used to be.  Teachers need to be sensitive to these ever changing dynamics.  Teachers need to respect and be sensitive to how families operate today.  We long longer have the dad-mom-kiddo norm.  It is simply no longer the norm.

Please, be more sensitive to the culture that exists today. Adjust your thinking and ideals to match the students you serve in your classroom.  You owe them that much.

I leave you with this AMAZING video that was shared with me.

Watch This Guy Misspell ’Father’ At A Spelling Bee For A Beautiful Reason

I know I couldn’t stop crying.

Under Siege

A feeling.

A feeling like nothing you have ever felt before.

All consuming. Eating you. Creeping though you to cover every last inch.

Nothing can stop it.

It numbs your touch.

It makes you weak.

You shake.

Tremble.

 

Trying not to fall.

The world starts spinning.

So dizzy...

The merry-go-round doesn’t stop. 

You hold still. You can’t close your eyes. It only gets worse.

You fight the light.

You fight the sounds.

Every movement. Every step. Every breath. They just bring more pain.

You start to sweat, yet you are freezing.

You brain just seizes.

You can’t think.

You can’t process.

You can’t function.

You press on knowing you can’t quit. You can’t pause. You can’t stop.

Nothing helps. It doesn’t end.

Suddenly you feel nothing. The buzzing creeps through your body from your fingers and toes rising like a great flood. You go numb. The whiteness creeps from all corners of your vision and you’re blinded.

Then it passes. The world returns. The pain continues....

This is my reality.

-------------------------------

I don’t often write about me. I write about my son. Our journey. After all, this is what it is all about. I’ve been hearing the assumption a lot lately that life has to be so difficult or so hard raising a child with special needs.

Nope.

Living with a migraine/seizure disorder is hard.

Waking up literally every day of my life with a headache is hard. Every.Single.Day.

Waking up every day with some level of fear over what the day will bring.

The only variance I have is just how bad it hurts. Some days it’s an annoying twinge. Other days it’s a full on attack.

If I wake up and I’m already under attack I can pretty much guarantee it will be a day from hell.

Nothing can alleviate the pain, the dizziness, the nausea, the sensitivity.

Any sudden movement will threaten to send me spiraling to the floor.

There are moments I pray for a seizure. Why? Because when my brain gets stuck and I’m completely numb it is the only relief I will get. The pain won’t go away, but I can function again. Sometimes it takes minutes. Other times, hours.

I don’t get time outs. I don’t get sick leave. I don’t get to go hide in a corner.

I am a single mom. My son needs me. I am on duty 24/7 no matter what.

That, my friends, is hard.

Not my son.

Not Autism.

Chronic pain.

Of Lovies and Comfort...

I was sitting here on the couch with the kiddo last night, watching Tom and Jerry for the 342,892,758,729,514th time this week and for some reason my mind went back in history. I had been having the kind of day where I just kept seeing him in me.

When I was a baby I had a Pooh bear who I could not leave the house without. My mom had told me stories about how upset I would get and the meltdown I would have if he was ever left behind. I had to take my bear anywhere we went.

I went back to look at photos and my Pooh bear shows up in so many of them. I really did take him everywhere... He was with me while I was sleeping. He was my “baby” in the toy stroller. He was sitting next to the mud puddle watching me play. He was often tucked up under my arm. I’m not ashamed to admit that he went to college with me. Even now, he sits in my bedroom watching over me as I sleep.


(Awww.... Yeah, I know.)

If you look closely at the picture below, you can even see the stitching that my 5-year old self did in giving him a new red shirt and black nose.

I remember losing him one fall, long long ago. I was devastated. It was literally the worst thing that could happen to me. I searched everywhere for him. He was gone... I spent the winter beyond depressed, upset that my beloved Pooh was gone. I probably drove everyone to insanity constantly asking and lamenting over him. That spring I was outside playing and kicking around leaves from the leaf pile we jumped in just a few months before. I kicked him. I was beyond excited! I ran into the house with him just screaming. My mom wasn’t so thrilled but (blessedly) washed him and tried to salvage my bear.

(My bear today:)


I will never forget the day a couple of years ago when I was sick with a migraine and couldn’t even get out of bed. I was out and lost to the world, unable to move, breathe, anything without the room spinning. I recall my arm being moved, something being tucked up under it, and hearing footsteps creep away...

I looked up and discovered that Sparky had literally scaled the wall, plucked my Pooh bear from the high shelf he was sitting on, and placed him under my arm for comfort. I asked him why he got Pooh down. He said simply that because he was my bear and I was sick, so I must need him for comfort.

Wow. Just wow...

(No empathy my arse...)

Not once had he seen me cuddle this bear. Not once had I mentioned anything about this bear. He just knew, on his own, what the bear signified and decided that I needed him. He was about 8 at the time.

Sparky didn’t have anything that he was attached to when he was a toddler. He was three before he found something that had that affect on him. Once he found it though... Oh man... I got a taste of what I had put my poor mother through.

My son had come across a stuffed frog at the day care he attended. It was already well loved and was missing an eye. He hated leaving that frog behind every day and would have a major meltdown every day when we left. It was always the first thing he went for when we arrived in the morning. After about 2 weeks the day care staff gifted the frog to him because he loved it so much.

That frog went everywhere... He slept with it. It went to the store. It went to the doctor’s. It went to Grandma’s. It went to parades. It went to the beach. It even still went to daycare. It went everywhere with us for years. If we ever forgot it (which was rare) we had to go back. It was like he couldn’t function without it. I don’t think we ever lost the frog, I was very careful about that knowing how heartbroken I was by my missing Pooh bear that winter.

Over time he added to the posse who left the house. We added in a red puppy and a raccoon. To this day, the raccoon (also the first animal he’s EVER named) is the one he takes everywhere.

(The puppy, the frog, and the raccoon- all ninja’d out of the kiddo’s room while he slept:)

To this day his animals still live just as well as my Pooh bear does. With us in our rooms, by our beds. The frog, the puppy and the raccoon all well loved. And Pooh bear, threadbare and also well loved.





(Editor’s note: I feet it appropriate to tell you that I wrote this whole post with my Pooh bear tucked under my chin. I came downstairs with him in my hands and Sparky looked at me and asked me why I had my Pooh bear. I told him I just need him. He smiled and kissed my cheek. Love this kid!!)

Big Steps

As many of you know I have returned to work for now. We have to do what we have to in order to make ends meet right?

Well with this we've had major changes.....

Last Friday I had off so we did our test pilot and put the kiddo on the bus for the very first time ever. If you follow my page at all you'll know it was a blazing success!! For those of you who don't, despite all the anxiety on everyone's part, we prepped and planned very well. He came off the bus grinning ear to eat and saying that it was fun!

The bus he rides on is a special designation bus. It only has special needs kiddos from his school. That's it. No mixed population. So we thankfully get to avoid all the bs that goes with bullies. Since he lives on the other side of town and the school he attends isn't his home school (the same is true for the others on the bus) we also lose any weird stigma. These kids simply live elsewhere.

So I get off work at 4 now. I think this bus thing could work since his official drop off time is 4:14 pm. Even if he beats me home it won't be by more than 5 minutes. So begins our next round of prep. Getting him in the door without panicking if I'm not here.

Before you get all sweaty and upset with me, know that he can definitely handle it. He manages just fine when I'm sleeping till noon on lazy Saturdays. He is actually really excited over the prospect of being here by himself and proving some responsibility. He can manage the door locks and playing a game or watching TV till I get home. Even if he has the munchies he can also get himself a snack. He wants to prove he can stay home alone while I go to the store. The jury might stay out on that one for a long while but we'll see.

It's all good.

So I've been working with him on unlocking the door and what he needs to do when he gets home. His BSC has made some cards at my request to walk him through what to do if he beats me home. He's getting a key. His teachers, BSC, and Grandma are all on board and ready to test this out this week (Grandma will be meeting him here at home this first week, helping to walk him through what to do, while I time myself home).

Sunday night, plan in place, start date in T+2 days and it hit me.

I have no house phone.

What if he needs to call? What if he can't get in? What if he just needs a mommy eta time check?

Fudge.

Insert two frantic days of 'now what?!?!' here.

I've never had a house phone so I don't even know if these lines are any good. But I investigate anyway. $10 phone services exist right?

Wrong...

Upon closer inspection they aren't really $10 and some even interfere with home security systems. Well that doesn't help. I'd need a real, traditional phone line put in.

Mobile phone? I do have access to a new phone from a friend. Perfect.

And.... Holy crap are the plans expensive. Even the prepaid!! I can't add him to my line very easily because I have the ancient nonexistent plan from Verizon that gives me unlimited data that I will never give up. (Over my dead body!) I am still unclear on if it could be added to the iPad, also Verizon... Still investigating.

All this stuff takes too much time!! I need something ASAP!!

So I start looking at apps. Google voice (which I currently use for voice mail), Talkaphone, Skype...

None will work because they won't let me call myself. Ugh!!!! I went to bed very frustrated last night. So I sent out a call for help.

I got a lot of suggestions. I got some offers of free phones. Nothing that would really quite work. And some I just couldn't implement fast enough. (Phone offers are on standby....)

Then a dear friend (you may know him from Blogging Lily) clued my blonde self in to a brilliant idea.

Use a separate Skype account.

GENIUS!!!

Who doesn't have several email addresses sitting around collecting dust? I sure do!

So I set one up for him (I already had one). I gave it a password the kiddo would remember. I logged it in on my laptop. Shazam!!!! It worked! We did a test call to the account I already have and the kiddo nearly came out of his skin with excitement!

Hmm... Will it go on the iPad? .... I look... Holy crap on toast it will!! So I set it up there. Once again the kiddo's skin peeled off in his excitement.

Wait! The phone! My old phone travels to school with him and he gets it for rewards to make videos or whatever. It basically runs like the iPad so it's usable. Internet over Wi-Fi.... I log it on... It works!!! I think he might have passed out.... ;)

I think we are covered for now.

He's growing up so fast on me.... Please pray for my sanity this week. :D

Through the Looking Glass....

I sat there in the office, looking at my doctor, who was just looking at me.

Moments ago he had told me that yes, I do appear to have it, but since I already know and am very self aware, why am I asking him to confirm it?

I didn't have an answer. Why was I seeking the answer from him? I knew the answer, sure. But hearing it is validation right? Or so I thought. It was the other words that hit me: you are self aware, you already know, you seem to have adjusted and coped just fine with it. Oh, and I should seek counseling as it is something that helps everyone.

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Coped well? Adjusted? Managed just fine? Did this guy even know me? I felt a little insulted by his assumptions. Oh, if he only knew....

Yes. I knew it already. I didn't expect to hear it, that wasn't the main reason I was there, but deep down I knew. I didn't really need him to tell me that I was on the spectrum, that I was likely an Aspie.

I knew.

To me there is a genetic component. My son got it from me. Well that explains that then.

Adjusted well?

I guess if you can call a Bachelor's degree, teaching certification and being 2 classes away from a Master's degree "adjusted."

More like "damn lucky to have somehow navigated so blindly through the universe that never understood me or feeling like I ever fit in."

But sure. I adjusted well. (/snark)

I've actually sat on this for about 6 months now. Six months this has been swirling in my brain. I had no idea how to write this. How to put it into words. Until now, I haven't told anyone.

Not my mom. Not my sisters. Not my best friend. Not even Strike. No one.

I was talking to my dear friend over at Mutha Lovin Autism not too long ago about this. She had written an amazing post that really struck a chord with me. You can read it here. She told me that only I can make the decision on where to go with this information. I honestly still don't know. But right now I feel that it needs to be out there. I've sat on it long enough.

Will it bring more understanding? Probably not. Will people look at me differently. Probably. But I have always held to the belief that I will be true to who I am and embrace it.

Over the last 6 months I have thought about many things. Growing up, school, my degrees, relationships... I've had so many struggles that I think would have been less had I known then what I know now. I was fighting against who I was not understanding myself, my emotions, my thoughts. I'm a pretty intense person. On every level... O.o

One relationship stands out when I think back. It was just a few years ago. He was a really great guy, said and did the right things, and things were great. Until they weren't. How much of that was him and how much was me is debatable and not relevant. (It was really about 50/50 anyway.) What is relevant is my own over-reactions to rather simple and insignificant things. I perseverated needlessly on so many things. It became harmful. My own reactions being so strong and sudden and him not possibly able to know where it was coming from, was a huge issue. I still struggle with this today. But not just in general, specific to this relationship. Had I been more self aware at the time to my own thoughts and emotions, I think things would have gone very differently. He will never see this post, as I'm sure he has no idea I write or even have this blog, but to him, I apologize. I was pretty intense, wasn't I? ")

Does it matter? In the long run no. We are both very happy with our current situations, I'm sure. I know I am. What does matter is the ability to have self awareness.

Where am I going with this? Over the last 3 years I've developed this self-awareness. This has helped me tremendously and has trickled down to the kiddo. How? Knowing my own struggle helps me understand and help him through his.

I heard not too long ago that I am a different person that I was a couple years ago. I have made a point of changing how I was in an attempt to make my relationships healthier and stronger. I like this new me. I feel stronger. I feel better. I finally feel like "me." I am conscious of where my limits are and managing myself. I didn't have a name for it, it was just something I knew I had to deal with and work on. It's something I work with the kiddo daily on. He needs to know his and how to work with them. What I haven't figured out yet is my temper and level of intensity... Someday I hope to get there. It's work in progress and I am improving.

Knowing what I do now, so much makes sense. I even sat down to compile a list of things (a running list because I keep thinking of new things) that make sense now when you look at how Asperger's is described (you can find this list in the link above, all apply which threw me through a loop, but I'm just highlighting some here):

Things like head banging in the car. I needed to move, so I'd move. There was something strangely comforting about constantly banging on the back of the seat. (My sisters didn't appreciate it much though...) I craved the motion. I still do. I can rock or swing for hours. I was a very stimmy child, often flapping my hands and being told very sarcastically that I wouldn't make it off the ground by an uncle of mine... :/

I crave pressure. I am one who will sleep with the comforter when it's 100 degrees in the room. I need to feel the weight. I also have to have my feet covered at all times.

I was staring at objects from an early age, just watching them move, trying to figure out how they moved. A few years ago I remember doing this with a Hoberman sphere that my son has. I lost hours to that thing one afternoon.

I had a thing I can only describe as a "scissors feeling when in car." I would cry over this one. Whenever I touched something I felt as though there was some sort of invisible string still tying me to that object that I had to "cut" to release. Then I'd have to cut what I just cut. Then cut again. And again... You get the idea. Eventually I would just cry in frustration.

I am one of the most inflexible people I know. I'm very rigid in how I think and respond. I have a really hard time adjusting to changes in plans, especially when they are last minute. I can easily lash out. Zero to 60 in 2.3 I always say... Once the change is in my head, I'm ok. I can adjust myself after the initial panic, talk myself down, and be ok. I just have to get there first...

I also have to do things in a very specific way. I thrive on routine. Things have to happen at certain times and in certain ways or it throws me off. This morning I accidentally shaved my right leg first... Seems like a small thing but it really messed with me for a while after that.

I have a love of cats. That is likely where my son gets it from. Growing up my world revolved around them. I was convinced for years that I would be a wildlife photographer and go to Africa to photograph them. They are and have been an intense, deep, interest for me. I am very attuned to my kitties.

I have major sensory issues. The biggest one being the feel of my clothing when I'm tired. They just get suddenly uncomfortable. When this happens I get irritable. I even have to take off my watch. I also hate being wet. It is nails on a chalkboard for me.

I have a major need for music at times. It works wonders to regulate my thoughts and emotions. It helps calm me and make sense of chaos around me. If the kiddo is particularly vocally stimmy I will have to pop in my headphones in order to be in the same room. (Which hurts to say.) Many of you already know of the headphones and music we bought for him for the same reason.

I often live in my own world. I like it there. I feel safe there. Going with that, I prefer to be alone. I'm content to sit by myself undisturbed for long periods of time.

My whole life I have struggled greatly with who I am and where I fit in. I've never really felt I belonged in a sense. I didn't feel like I really had an identity unless I had a label: band member, cheerleader, admin, and eventually mom and teacher. I live by those labels. Without them I am lost.

I often have to rely on my friends in social situations for cues on how to respond to something. I often respond wrong and don't know it or understand why (a big issue in relationships, like the one I already mentioned). The issue here is that I am often seen as cold and unfeeling which is really not accurate at all. I easily offend and alienate people as a result.

As strange as it may sound, I keep certain objects near me at all times. It changes as times goes on but it's pretty consistent. As a result, I carry a large purse... I have a hard time letting go, objects or people.

My closest friends have always been male. I say it's because there is less drama (which is true) but men are often so black and white. This makes them so easy to understand. They also don't really seem to care so much about those minor social things that women pick others apart for.

I've always been very motherly, taking care of people and making sure everything is ok. This usually isn't an issue on a larger scale and it works nicely to counteract those who think I'm cold and unfeeling.

I'm very blunt and have no filter. This is not good in many social situations but over the years I have developed my skill for tact and diplomacy which has helped ease the sting on this one.

Growing up I found it easier to be friends with people older than me and had many adult friends. To this day I have friends who are older than me (as I age this gap closes). I've been told I have an old soul. I can only guess this is where that comes from.

I found it interesting than an intense interest in reading was on the list. I'm an avid reader and am never happier than when I have a book in my hands. My son shares this love of books and we currently have far more books than we have shelves to put them on! He recently came home and told me that the book fair was coming to school and on what day so I wasn't allowed to forget! :)

Appearing shy was also on the list and this one made me smile. Growing up I was often assumed shy because I am also hearing impaired. I would avoid large crowds and when I couldn't, I would be the quiet one in the corner. I would (and still do) avoid going to parties and large gatherings for this very reason. However, around trusted friends I would be completely out of that shell and show my more outgoing side.

I remember a little quirk I had growing up. I would circles around the house for hours. Perfectly content to circle, lost in my own world and thoughts. About 3 years ago now, my son was spotted doing the same and I had received a frantic phone call from my mother who was convinced the kiddo was upset and I needed to come pick him up. He was perfectly content, and I knew he was, but there was no convincing her. (She does not remember this but there was so much going at that time that it probably didn't stand out to her.)

The ability to hide how things really are? Got it. I am very well mannered in a sense and never reveal how I'm really feeling or what is really going on in my life. I find it very difficult to let anyone in.

I've always been very conscious of appearances. Always. Everything has to be "just right" or it won't work. I will change my clothes 6 times before leaving the house if something is not quite right. Going with that, I have to have certain things like my watch or a necklace. I cannot leave the house without my necklace... (I've also worn the same necklace for the last 4 years...)

I think it's obvious that I'm a writer. I used to write poetry. It all surrounded my feelings. Some of it has been published. I feel free when I write. I get lost in the worlds I make. I also draw. I love art. It's something the kiddo and I definitely share. I am also an actress. My first degree (BA) is in theater.

I guess that lets the cat out of the bag so to speak. To go back to the original question, why seek the answer from him? Validation in a world that has time and time again invalidated everything I have ever felt. Confirmation of what I know. The beginning of something to help make sense of my world.

For the last several years I have seen my son in me. It has been both eye-opening and comforting in many ways. I no longer wish to "see how he sees" because I realize now that I already do. As Mutha Lovin Autism said best: He is me. I am him.

Editor's Note: Before publishing this post I did send it to my family and Strike for them to read. I don't want to spring anything on anyone. As I expected, there were no surprises. I have also embraced my happy stimmy self which I'm sure is driving Strike nuts, but he needs to know what he's in for right? ;) I feel free. I feel happy. I feel better than I have in years.

When We Fall...

When a baby learns to talk... She babbles. She makes noise. She keeps babbling. She learns to talk.

When a toddler learns to walk... He falls. He gets up. He falls. He gets up. He learns to walk.

When a child learns to run... She trips. She falls. She gets up. She tries again. She learns to run.

When a child learns to ride a bike... He gets on. He falls. He gets on. He falls. He gets back on. He falls. He learns to ride.

You struggle. You learn. You experience heartbreak. You suffer disappointments. You get up. You dust yourself off. You continue on.

You sit in the office. You hear the words. "He has what we call Autism." You react.

You fall. You get up. You continue on.

You struggle teaching him to speak. To dress. To eat. To just call you "mom."

You fall. You get up. You continue on.

You sit helplessly as you watch your son rage against himself. He wants a new brain. He doesn't understand why it "doesn't work" the way people expect it to. Why can't he be like his friends at school? Why can't he understand what others do? He wants to die.

You fall. You get up. You continue on.

You find yourself holding him. He's raging. He's angry. He doesn't see you. He doesn't see his mom. You are there. But he doesn't see you. He sees anger. Upset. He surprises you with an amazingly powerful right hook to the cheek.

You fall. You cry. Your world shatters again.

What do you do?

What you do next defines you. It makes you. It breaks you.

What do you do?

Do you get up and try again?

Do you decide you've had enough and give in?

What would you do?

I see his frustration. I can see it in his eyes as he rages within trying to get a thought out.

I see him struggle to tell me an idea.

I see him fight to tell me how he feels.

I hear him rage verbally about his brain. He screams that he needs a new one. He doesn't understand why it "doesn't work" like he thinks it should. He beats his head with his fists, leaving scratches and bruises, trying to get it to "work."

I watch him struggle with who he is and the body he is in.

There is nothing I can do to make it better. Nothing I can do to help him make sense of it.

All I can do is hug him, tell him how much I love him, tell him he's perfect as he is, and duck.

I never knew just how much I would struggle as a mom. I cry more than I like to admit. I scream. I yell. I throw things. I totally lose my mind. I have nights where all I want is a drink so I can relax. I am constantly stressed. Constantly on my toes. Constantly in high gear.

I get hugged, kissed, scratched, hit, punched, snuggled, yelled at, smiled at, and gifted. All in one day. Sometimes all in the same hour.

And when I cry, I cry hard. Sometimes it's a single tear sliding silently down my cheek unnoticed, all the upset contained in that single drop. Sometimes it's the ugly cry locked in the bathroom.

When I crack, I crack hard.

But I do the only thing I know how to do.

Get up.

Dust myself off.

And continue on.

My baby is relying on me. He's the most precious gift I have.

Tomorrow is a new day.

We adjust. We adapt. We overcome.

**Editor's note: Whenever I do break down and lost my cool it is rarely in the kiddo's presence. I will leave the room. I will take him to Grandma's. I will do what I need to do to get a break and regroup. We all need a plan. What is yours?**