July 23, 2010
There is a whole lot of stuff to be mad about when you have a child with autism. Your child's outrageous and needy behavior, social isolation, medical bills, marital disagreements, indifference or ignorance from medical professionals, etc. You get the picture. It is this angst and anger that drives so many parents to make poor or irrational decisions. But this same angst and anger turns many parents into incredible activists and heroes. I hope to lean more towards the second type, but I think we are all a combination of both.
As the years went by and my knowledge grew, the true picture of what had happened to my son began to emerge. I started to understand how my own decisions, guided by medical misinformation or lack of information, led to one huge health disaster for my son, known as autism. There was a point when I had decided that aside from a little hay and dirt on his butt, my son would have truly been better off if he'd been born in a barn and I'd never set foot in a doctor's office. It felt difficult to focus on anything else besides anger and resentment.
But one day, I chose to let it go. Yes, my son was injured and ill, but he had a lot going for him, too. Was it in his best interest for me to dwell on everything that was wrong with him and never move forward with my life? I decided not. It's no different than if he had been born healthy, and then crippled by a drunk driver. It was preventable, but no lawsuit or legal victory would change his health after the fact. It is what it is. Education and research can change the future for the next generation, but this generation is now stuck dealing with autism, like it or not.
Just because I now have a child with autism doesn't mean I can't have fun, laugh, or do something crazy and adventurous, like running 1000 miles. Occasionally, resentment or self-pity rears its ugly head, but I just exhale and send it packing. I have so much to be thankful for. I don't even know what my life would be like now if I had never had a child with autism. I probably would be equally emotionally consumed with whether my child had all the coolest Abercrombie clothes or was the captain of the soccer team. Trivial stuff. I'd probably have fake boobs, because I never really had any real ones, and I'd have a whole lot more money leftover for useless medical procedures like Botox. Would that have been me? Probably.
Instead, I have a deeper understanding of where true happiness lies. And happiness never feels so good as when you have lived without it and gotten it back. The parents and professionals I have met through autism are some of the most brave, dedicated, and inspirational people I have ever known, and I am so proud to be a part of that group. I cannot imagine a life where I didn't relate so deeply to these wonderful people. I forgive all the other people who couldn't help my son, and I forgive my son for the behavior he couldn't control. Most importantly, I forgive myself for not realizing at times what a special gift he is to me and my family.
There is a whole lot of stuff to be mad about when you have a child with autism. Your child's outrageous and needy behavior, social isolation, medical bills, marital disagreements, indifference or ignorance from medical professionals, etc. You get the picture. It is this angst and anger that drives so many parents to make poor or irrational decisions. But this same angst and anger turns many parents into incredible activists and heroes. I hope to lean more towards the second type, but I think we are all a combination of both.
As the years went by and my knowledge grew, the true picture of what had happened to my son began to emerge. I started to understand how my own decisions, guided by medical misinformation or lack of information, led to one huge health disaster for my son, known as autism. There was a point when I had decided that aside from a little hay and dirt on his butt, my son would have truly been better off if he'd been born in a barn and I'd never set foot in a doctor's office. It felt difficult to focus on anything else besides anger and resentment.
But one day, I chose to let it go. Yes, my son was injured and ill, but he had a lot going for him, too. Was it in his best interest for me to dwell on everything that was wrong with him and never move forward with my life? I decided not. It's no different than if he had been born healthy, and then crippled by a drunk driver. It was preventable, but no lawsuit or legal victory would change his health after the fact. It is what it is. Education and research can change the future for the next generation, but this generation is now stuck dealing with autism, like it or not.
Just because I now have a child with autism doesn't mean I can't have fun, laugh, or do something crazy and adventurous, like running 1000 miles. Occasionally, resentment or self-pity rears its ugly head, but I just exhale and send it packing. I have so much to be thankful for. I don't even know what my life would be like now if I had never had a child with autism. I probably would be equally emotionally consumed with whether my child had all the coolest Abercrombie clothes or was the captain of the soccer team. Trivial stuff. I'd probably have fake boobs, because I never really had any real ones, and I'd have a whole lot more money leftover for useless medical procedures like Botox. Would that have been me? Probably.
Instead, I have a deeper understanding of where true happiness lies. And happiness never feels so good as when you have lived without it and gotten it back. The parents and professionals I have met through autism are some of the most brave, dedicated, and inspirational people I have ever known, and I am so proud to be a part of that group. I cannot imagine a life where I didn't relate so deeply to these wonderful people. I forgive all the other people who couldn't help my son, and I forgive my son for the behavior he couldn't control. Most importantly, I forgive myself for not realizing at times what a special gift he is to me and my family.
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