My Grandson
If you are a Grandparent, you know what that title means to you. Precious wonderful piece of your daughter (or son) who brings you joy, exhaustion, love, laughter and you can send him home when he gets tired!
Then comes the diagnosis ... Autism. It isn't so much a surprise because you watched him miss one milestone after another. You watched other children his same age take off running and skipping and talking and playing with others his age without difficulty, while your daughter says the daycare sent home another sad note for biting or hitting. Then there are the pictures the daycare posts on the FB page. There is always the cute group picture of all the kids playing, and then there's the picture of yours, alone in the picture because group play is just too difficult for him to navigate and he chooses individual play time. God Bless them for adding a picture of him, but it is as sad as it is wonderful. Just another reminder that your heart extended has a really really hard time.
Oh people are full of suggestions and superior looks and think they're pretty wise when they tell you to just whip him some more. It didn't ever really make me that mad, but it's exhausting. If there's one thing I was never accused of is not knowing how to hold a firm line with a child. But this isn't it. Children who need a firm line are throwing their fits to manipulate, to get their way. For an autistic child, or mine anyway, there is no getting his way. It's like his whole mind and body is turning in on Him and he is fighting back as best he can - you are just caught in the crossfire. No he isn't throwing that fit to get something. He's fighting to regain something ... peace and calmness in his mind.
I've resigned myself to the fact that people don't get it and for their sake I hope they never will.
But my little super hero? At 4 years old he can't talk yet. He can say about a dozen words... maybe. He loves me fiercely. But fights me with even more passion. Every morning I wake up and try to get my own child with challenges out the door on time (this never happens). I meet my daughter at the daycare where she drops my granddaughter. Because she has to get to work before he can be walked into his Special Ed classes at the Elementary school, I meet her and drop him off when the time is right.
Transitions are hard. This first week back to school after Christmas break is the hardest I've ever seen. When I opened the car door this morning he had taken his sippy cup and practiced how far he could spit with all the milk inside. My daughter handled it like a champ. She just grabbed a cloth and started cleaning it up while telling him he Can. Not. Do. That. Anymore. I have 2 bite marks on my hands from trying to buckle him into his car seat. Both of those occasions he is unable to let go. I physically have to put my other finger in his mouth and pry it open to get him to let loose.
From the outside, or just looking at my role in that - it is a little humorous. However, when I really sit and think what's happening in his mind and emotions to cause that kind of reaction it really grieves me. Both times I've gotten back in the car and cried.
This week after picking him up he screams the entire way to my daughter's school, where she has been plugging her ears the whole way and unlike the regular child, she is more than happy to get out of the car and head into school. This also makes me sad. I had a mom moment for my little one where I thought "I can't do this to her every morning." Then I had another mom moment for my older girl, where I thought ... "I can't let my daughter go through this alone. There are plenty of days she gets back in her car and cries. She isn't going to do it alone."
And just about the time I am completely unsure of what to do. I put him down just inside the elementary school and the tiny little 24lb thing runs to his teacher. I yell "Goodbye Bubbie have a good day!"
He gasps and turns around and throws his arms open as wide as his tiny little body can get them and runs to me and hugs me very tightly. He makes the noise I've come to recognize as his attempt to tell me he wants me to sing "our song" .... and I do. "I love you. A Bushel and a Peck. A Bushel and a Peck .... AAAAAAAAAAAND a hug around the neck!" He giggles, crawls down and Runs back to his teacher and they disappear around the corner.
Meanwhile, I stand there still feeling the spot where he almost drew blood 3 minutes ago and feeling how much he loves me right in the middle of it all and I pray to God for some kind of deliverance. Complete and total if it's God's will. But I know sometimes challenges are allowed to come our way so we can learn to walk with God a little closer because of them. So I pray. For exactly the level of deliverance that is God's will. For my Grandson - My Daughter and Son-in-law - For us - for his Dad and his side of the family.
Now that you've read this -- you know what I've gone through for about 30 minutes each morning. There's other challenges with my youngest daughter that magnify my emotions by the time I get to this little guy.
Some of you have said you can't imagine. And I can't do the moments justice with words. My daughter does this all day. You see, sometimes children with Autism don't sleep very well and our little guy is one of those. But if you encounter my daughter who is doing this hard thing called being a Mama - if you encounter me ... or all of us during these 30 minutes of every day?!?
Say a prayer for us. We probably need it.
