What It's Like

Below is a picture of my 3 monkeys.  My four year old on the far right is named Jacob and he has Autism.  He's beautiful. 

I get a lot of emails and Facebook postings in regards to Autism in an attempt to educate myself about my son's condition.  I don't read all of them and I rarely watch a video. Today I did, and I am so glad. It's hard to explain how it feels to have a child with Autism and not everyone has the same experience. I find it hard to put my feelings about my son into words. I don't want to get emotional or sound flippant, I don't want pity and I don't want to make others feel uncomfortable. Questions are welcome, parenting advice is not. 

The video I watched today.......nailed it. At least for me. This father, without using spoken words, said exactly what I feel. And when he held up the notecard that says, "They came to our house.", my tears started flowing. Ugh, I hate crying sooo much! But that day those people came to my house to assess Jacob was, excuse my language, absolutely shitty!

In fact the experience inspired me to write a poem, not something you will usually get from me unless it's more like a dirty limerick. I copied my poem below this video. Will you watch it for me?  Will you read my poem? I appreciate you.

A deep, searing breath

a retching cough

rub my eyes

tuck a curl behind my ear

wipe the hot tears off my cheeks

3 faces swimming in my living room

telling me my youngest needs further assesment forAutism

I scoop up my son

I offer them coffee and fudge

he sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star into my ear

I squeeze him and rock him

I glance at the clock

one face asks me if I need to leave to pick up my other kids

I say no we have 30 minutes

He laughs, looks at his colleagues and says, "We rocked this.".

Another face grimaces and asks me if I have questions.

Yes.

Can you be wrong?

Can somebody else with more letters behind their surname

deliver better news?

And once my child suceeds beyond all expectations

can his records be sealed so nobody can ever label him?

I need to go to bed,

I need to drive,

I need to drink,

I need to go to the beach and feel the sand beneath my toes,

I need the sound of the surf in my ears,

I need the cold wind to bring fresh tears to my eyes.

I need to yell,

I need to kick,

I need to hit,

And I can't.

I am a mother

and I have to maintain.

I have to smile.

I have to love.

Jump through hoops.

I need help.