Sunday, June 22, 2008

We couldn't do this without our friends - old & new!

"The strongest and sweetest song remains to be sung." -- Walt Witman


Gator and I went on a "date night" Friday for the first time in a long time (thanks Aunt Kim for keeping Kyle). We needed to go to Spartanburg anyway to get Kyle diapers at Sam's Club, but Gator surprised me with dinner (at our new favorite restaurant City Range) and a movie. We first ended up having to go to Verizon Wireless to have our phones checked for some technical difficulties, then to Sam's, and then to City Range (boy was it GOOD!). We had then planned on a movie but I didn't see anything I wanted to see more than "Fool's Gold" that had just come out on Charter Cable On-Demand and decided we would go home to watch a movie.

We had one last stop on our way home -- to Barnes & Noble to see if they had the DRM, IHRA Drag Review Magazine that has an article about Trevor and Team Aruba in its June issue. While there of course I had to check out the latest books on Autism.........and found the "Chicken Soup for the Soul - Children with Special Needs" book. I immediately opened the book as soon as we got in the car and began reading stories to Gator on our way home. I was fine until I read the following story - which I dedicate to all those who we would have never met had it not been for Kyle and his God given specialty of Autism and Fragile X (but one day God and I will have a long talk about this!)



What They Forgot to Mention by Sandy Sotzen

I remember the day of my son's diagnosis of autism as if it were yesterday. The tone of the doctor's voice, the silence in the room, the words "lifelong disability, no cure, I'm sorry" still sting when I allow myself to reflect on that day.
But I have paused on occasions too numerous to count and thought, Someone should've mentioned that this would be part of the package when my child was diagnosed with autism.
Someone forgot to mention that I would listen to my child's simple utterances or attempted approximations as if he were a world leader giving the speech of a lifetime. I could never have imagined the worth of a single word despite the fact that I may never hear it again.
Someone forgot to mention that when my son was finally potty-trained at age nine, there would be few people who could understand the significance of such an accomplishment, and even fewer with whom I could actually share it. Accomplishments of any size, there true worth known only to me, would bring quiet celebrations between my son and me.
Someone should've mentioned that autism is messy! Wallpaper's meant to be shredded, bathrooms are designed to be flooded, walls are bare in order to smear stuff on them, washable paint really isn't, and more food will actually be crushed and dropped than eaten.
I wish someone would've mentioned that autism is extremely expensive! Doctors, therapists, medications, supplements, conferences, and sensory equipment are only the tip of the iceberg. I could not have guessed that my child's disability would allow people to cross our path in life who otherwise would not have, and that such people would willingly respond to a child in need.
Someone should have mentioned that each time a child with autism initiates or engages in a reciprocal hug, that feeling that you had when you held him for the first time comes back time and time again.
And they forgot to mention the day my son was diagnosed with autism that the triumphs over this disability would far outweigh the tears, that laughter would eventually ease the sense of loss, and that sheer faith would allow me and millions of other parents to fall into bed exhausted each night, only to get up the next day eager to discover what else they forgot to mention.