Autism & Me

The hand sanitizer smelled like lavender and babies.

That delicious smell- the glossy oak floors of the labor and delivery room, and those scratchy white receiving blankets with the blue and pink stripes are forever in my mind.

The baby I got in that room with the hardwood floors was the best part. Perfect and soft, sweet and pure, he filled me up with a gentleness and love that I didn’t know existed within me. I loved him with all of myself. I wanted to protect him…but mostly right then I wanted to kiss his face off.

Asher

I still feel those things.

I still want to kiss his face off, except now my baby has autism.

After moving to the Middle East, we hardly noticed the small changes that were happening with him. We were however, aware that at 18 months, he made no effort to talk. We weren’t overly worried, but two doctors and 3 therapists later, innocent questions turned serious about Asher’s development, and then he said it.

Autism.

It’s a pretty heavy word.

Truthfully, it probably sounds heavier when it’s not your child. When it’s your child, nothing changes. Asher is still mine. He is still sweet and pure. As the words “your child has autism” fell from the therapist’s lips, Asher didn’t change. Nothing moved in the room. We were all still sitting there. I always thought a diagnosis like that- on a child of my own- would instantly make the world collapse, but it didn’t surprisingly.

Me and my boys

So here we are.

I look at my baby who isn’t a baby anymore and the label he now carries. Someone close to me told me recently that there is no ‘other’ Asher that we would love as much as the one we’ve got. I believe that’s true. It’s also true that he is different.

He is hard to handle sometimes. But it occurred to me that this place, autism…is right where we need to be at this moment. I believe Asher is a special gift custom wrapped just for me. In order to unwrap him though, I first need to learn a few things.

He’s teaching me. He is teaching me to give. And the most important thing I can give to him right now is myself. Me with my head in the same place as my feet. The ability to be present with him. To walk thoughtfully through the good and the bad and to stop looking at it as ‘good’ or ‘bad.’  To use each moment I have with him to show him how much I desperately love him.

We have had so much support from those we love and complete strangers it’s that support has been critical in the way we are ‘walking’ through this.

I feel good. I feel hopeful. I feel blessed.

Kera Thompson is a wife, mom, model and runner living in Abu Dhabi. Check out her musings at: http://runningmommy04.blogspot.com/