A couple of weeks ago, after a few glasses of wine, I asked my cousin Jeff how he would feel about being a guest writer on my blog. He and his wife Kerry are big fans of the boys, but we don't get to see them as often as we'd like. I thought it would be interesting and enlightening to get another persons perspective. Pure, honest, true, close but yet afar. So, here goes...
Strip away the social norms that we all adhere to, and you're left with who you really are. You could be disarmingly open, yet refreshingly honest as you flit through life--unencumbered by what others might think. Sure, there will be enough hushed whispers and curious stares to let you know that your behaviors are a little different from what's normal. But who cares? Those who are brave enough to get past their own discomfort, and who take the time to know you will love you for who you are. As Pam's cousin, I've had the opportunity to see these behaviors in her two Autistic sons, Brett and Jordan, and I want to share my perspective on what it's like to know them, learn from them, and love them.
Like all of us, the boys have their own unique personalities. Brett (14) is eternally child-like, with seemingly boundless energy and the wisdom of a sage Jack-in-the-Box--taking you off guard with his wise quips about life. One of my favorite things to do is to watch Brett play with his stuffed animals. He comes to life as he plays--getting lost in the moment as he animates the characters with an innocence that most of us sadly lost a long time ago. Jordan (20) doesn't speak--but it would be wrong to say he doesn't communicate. Without his gift of speech abilities, you're forced to read his body language. His coy smile, his clenched fists, or his "I love you" hand sign are clear windows into Jordan's mind. You'll know him as being observant, loving, and often annoyed with his younger brother like any sibling would be.
I witness the struggles of raising Autistic children, but only as an outsider. As the father of two children, I can empathize with the feeling of hearing your child belly-laugh, with the visceral response of watching your child get hurt, and the sense of uncertainty when they disappear from sight. But I can't imagine being robbed of their giggle or being stuck in a wave of worry as I question whether I've left them alone for too long when I've been in the shower. This is how I imagine being the parent of an Autistic child: Instinctively loving like any parent would be, yet challenged to understand them as you watch them navigate with social skills different than my own. Do they feel embarrassed by the looks of shock when they blurt out what they're *really* thinking? If not, then I'm truly jealous.
As a husband, I know the strain that children place on a relationship. Studies have shown that marriages undergo a "U"-shaped curve in relationship satisfaction--joyfully and naively oblivious to the challenges ahead in the beginning, with a drop during the child-rearing years, and finally rising once the kids are grown. But whereas my wife and I can now pawn off our (wonderful) children onto a babysitter, doing so with Autistic children must present additional challenges--making it even harder to stay connected with your spouse. How can you "let go" and enjoy a quiet dinner when you're not sure if the babysitter is equipped to deal with a 20-year-old Autistic man who outweighs you by 70 pounds, is angry enough to punch someone, and who can't speak? Challenging indeed.
I have not raised Autistic kids, but I've learned and loved a lot by being around Jordan and Brett. Pay less attention to what others might think, love those who are in your life for their uniqueness--not their sameness; and get over your own discomforts and reach out to know someone for who they really are.
Thank you Jeff. It took me several tries to get through this, and the tears are still flowing. After the past couple of days, I desperately needed to see this. To remind me why I'm here. Why I do what I do. It gives me strength to get up tomorrow, and start all over again. That, and the fact that Jordan is peeking in on me, giving me that coy grin that says so very much. Just seeing that makes all the ugliness of the day disappear.
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