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- How I Addressed the Autism “Challenge” in Our Home
by Emma Harrison
Updated: March 31, 2017
Originally Published: April 23, 2014
When my son, Leo, who is on the autism spectrum, was four years old, he managed to consume nearly an entire foam puzzle while I was in the shower. When I stepped out, he gazed at me with wide, bright eyes, seemingly unbothered. However, I was understandably distressed.
“Why would you do that?” I asked, my voice trembling with anxiety.
He remained unfazed and tilted his head at me.
“Are you a goat?” I inquired with frustration, searching for a response.
He just stared back, expressionless.
His thoughts might have been something like: “She looks better from a distance.” But of course, he said nothing, as speech was a challenge for him due to his autism.
I shook my head firmly. “No! No eating!” I insisted, pointing at the remnants of the foam puzzle.
He mimicked my head shake, repeating it multiple times.
Still shaking his head, I bundled him and his sibling into their winter gear and rushed to the Children’s Emergency Room. The doctors concluded that the foam wasn’t a major threat, but they admitted him for observation. Perhaps they felt sympathy for the pregnant mother juggling two toddlers, one with a penchant for chewing on plastic. I refrained from mentioning that I had a six-year-old daughter waiting for me at school, potentially lost in the neighborhood.
While Leo was in the hospital, I requested a psychiatric consultation. Initially, I resorted to a bit of a tantrum, but when people began to notice, I opted for a more civilized approach. Thankfully, the resident physician proved to be mistaken about the psychiatrist’s unavailability.
Since Leo’s diagnosis at age two, we had pursued various therapies, including school programs and mental health services. I often felt overwhelmed and fearful that I wasn’t doing enough for him. Some days, I found myself huddled in the kitchen, paralyzed by the pressure of “fixing” his behaviors. On other days, I devised intricate therapy plans to address his unique quirks. Yet, we had never consulted a child psychiatrist, and with the possibility of another puzzling episode like before, I had numerous questions.
The psychiatrist spoke plainly yet compassionately, providing insights that brought a mix of clarity and apprehension. For the first time, someone addressed Leo’s condition with the brutal honesty we desperately needed.
“Your son has classic autism,” he stated. “There is no cure. Anyone claiming to have ‘cured’ their child of autism likely did not have a child with autism.”
Instead of feeling saddened, I experienced an unexpected sense of relief. It became clear that I needed to cease my struggle against an invisible adversary, a battle that was ultimately detrimental to us all. I had long suspected that fighting this diagnosis would only lead to our mutual defeat, but admitting it had been challenging.
A thought that had been gnawing at me surfaced, one that I hesitated to voice then and that may still discomfort some now: Leo appeared to be content with his autism. In fact, he seemed genuinely joyful.
Thus, from that day onward, I ceased my attempts to change Leo and embraced him for who he is. This does not imply that I neglected therapy or support; I continued to seek out occupational and speech therapy, and I set boundaries when he jumped around during family movie nights. I still believed in providing him with the best resources and environment.
What I began to expect was simply what Leo could realistically offer. My focus shifted to helping him become the best version of himself. Most importantly, I learned to coexist with autism in our lives. It became part of him, much like his bright eyes and his quirky love for foam.
This is the story of how I transitioned from battling an unseen enemy to inviting autism into our lives with understanding and acceptance. This approach feels more harmonious for me, although I recognize it may not suit everyone. Some parents might perceive letting go of the fight as weakness or powerlessness. For me, it is about moving forward.
I respect that not all parents will find my perspective applicable to their journeys. I prefer to avoid contentious debates within the already fragmented community surrounding autism. My acceptance of Leo’s diagnosis is not up for discussion; there are already too many topics that divide us.
We are all mothers of unique children—those who flap, jump, wander, and express themselves in ways that may draw unwanted attention. Disagreements over vaccines, diets, or acceptance can distract us from our shared purpose.
Let’s agree to disagree when necessary and focus our collective energy on more constructive issues, one that every mother of an autistic child can rally around: the shared sentiment against figures like Jenny McCarthy.
Summary
This narrative chronicles the journey of a mother navigating the complexities of her son’s autism diagnosis. Initially overwhelmed by the desire to change her child, she discovered the importance of acceptance and understanding, ultimately shifting her focus toward supporting him in becoming his best self. This acceptance fostered a more harmonious family life while recognizing the shared experiences of parents in the autism community.
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