Embracing Change

 

          I haven't written about my boys for a while now. It's been a year that I've decided to be a full-time mom to them and I found myself immersing in the full experience from sun up to sun down of being present for them and with them. Several times an insight appears acknowledging the many different milestones they have achieved in the past year and me wanting to write about them but then never really following it through. Writing was my way of immortalizing moments in time that were probably never going to happen again or simply things that needed to be remembered for all time. This is still true. However, as much as the past year has been about a decision to be fully present for them, it was equally a choice to also be fully present for myself. Present for all the turbulence and calm, the grief and joys, the brevity and in-betweens of navigating relationships, realities and dreams in the process of fruition or right in the middle of failings, of my very human experience. One would say perhaps the past year was really more about finding home in myself, in my role as a mother and the other roles I had to play.

          A few days ago, an insight appeared. It was this:  "I almost missed it." “It” referred to how my first-born, Garret has now learned to use the term "change" for different situations already. He started using the word for whenever I arrived home from work before and he wanted me to immediately change my work clothes to house clothes. And it remained with only this reference for quite a few years. Then he was able to apply it to when we were about to go out for their favorite activity of joy riding in the car and they had to change into going-out clothes. As of recent, he has now been using it to request me to change the movie he is watching on Netflix or YouTube. For those of you who aren't familiar with Autism, language impairment is a significant hurdle and so when a milestone as "easy" as accurately applying a concept to a similar situation happens, it is a huge achievement. I give thanks for this gift and once again strive to appreciate it by acknowledging his milestone, telling him what a good job he did communicating with me what he wanted to communicate.

          At times I catch myself from imposing on him that he needs to finish an entire movie before choosing to watch another one in an attempt to teach him perseverance or a simple completion of a task  through sustained attention before moving on to the next. During these times I give my son a break and myself too and just relish the moment and let him be. It's fine, I tell myself. It's okay. We have our whole life to learn this. There is no rush. Change after all in many ways is needed.

          After a hiatus of writing about my boys, I feel compelled to write about this particular experience primarily because the word "change" has been my lighthouse of the past year and especially the two years ago when my mother died. I would like to think I too have learned how to use the word change in my own life more accurately, encompassing all that seems impossible to be included. I am learning to accept that all things no matter how permanent they should be should, in some way, change if I am to evolve into the human being I am meant to be. Certain psychic and emotional ties must be severed, old patterns of behavior discarded, life priorities must be sifted and shifted. And this is fine. This is perfectly okay. Human beings were never meant to be rigid and stuck in one place. If I am to learn about the nature of life, then I need to take my cue from my son. So many times I thought his use of a particular word would remain in one context. And then overtime, it shifts. It expands. His language grows. He communicates better. I tell myself now, this I shouldn't miss. This I should be all the more present for. So this I should write about.

          So here it is. Here I am writing and sharing to you, whoever you are reading this, a tidbit of a milestone about my first-born. A pinpoint of an insight in my recent life. I'm making sure not to miss it by immortalizing it through words. I'm being fully present for it. I'm returning home to myself, this time embracing all that I have been and am-- all the roles I played, being a mother most of all .  And I hope it compels you to be fully present for and with your own milestones and insights through the many different and absolutely necessary changes in your life too. After all, we are all just having a very human experience. Perhaps not all the time a happy experience but certainly a life-changing one. And what is this life if we are not present for it and with it? What is this life if we do not find home within ourselves? 

          Namaste. 

Monday Mood

 I tell my boy, "You're my darling, Garret, you know that?" He replies, " Dah-ling," then proceeds to sing-hum, "Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling clementine..."

Today we explored identifying emotions to help him navigate his own as mood changes have been appearing lately due to many different things. He is already after all 16 years old and starting to assert his own particular boundaries, saying" no" adamantly and asking for what he needs. Milestones I am extremely grateful for.

We traced and colored "happy" , "sad", "angry" , "scared".  Then created our own interpretations of the same emotions. This morning Garret is clearly happy delving into our exercises, enunciating in his laughing, already baritone voice, "A-pee." And even as we proceeded with sad, angry and scared, he was still smiling as he tried to enunciate the words the best way he can, seemingly happy to simply dive into our predictable routine in the morning.

Needless to say, because our life with autism is far from conventional with communication a universe  different from the neurotypicals, our awareness of each other's emotions with all its nuances and various articulations, is heightened and sharpened, compelling me to be present and mindful every single minute of everyday to his and his brother Morgan's needs. I do not want to be so self-righteous as to say that this is what parenting should be across the board. Every family is different. But I do know that this is what it should be in our own universe.

One of the most poignant realizations I gathered from the past few months, from the conscious decision I made to be  finally a  full-time mother is that my boys did not ask me to be born. I willfully asked for them. And so there is no other way but to be fully present for them. To finally fully embody what I have been admonishing parents of our preschoolers in the past.

So today is another chance to practice this wisdom of presence. I do not let his reply of singing "Oh My Darling" to my telling him that he is my darling Garret, pass me by. I fill his handsome face with kisses, embracing him like he is just 3 years old. And my 16-year old handsome teenager eagerly reciprocates smiling even more.

I think it is quite safe to say then that today, Monday of all days,  today's mood is happy. Utterly happy.

How's your own Monday going so far?  

Spectrum

Autism Spectrum Disorder. The National Institute of Mental Health defines it as

 : a developmental disorder that involves impairment in communication, social skills and repetitive behaviors and restricted interest
 : is known as a "spectrum" disorder because there is wide variation in the type and severity of symptoms people experience.  

          It is January 21, 2008. I carry Morgan in my arms into our home. Garret rushes to my side, confused. He has not seen me for 5 days.  He is 2 years and 10 months old. He could not understand why his Mama is carrying another baby in her arms and not him. He tries to pry away his baby brother from my arms. I tell him, "It's okay Garret. This is Morgan, your baby brother. We love Morgan the same as we love you." He looks at Morgan and then at me, and then he sits still by my side. I look at both of them. Morgan in my arms. Garret beside me. What beautiful boys I have. What a beautiful life  we have, I say in my heart.

        Three months after, Garret was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Three years after, Morgan was diagnosed to be on the spectrum as well.

        Coming to terms with Autism is never a one-time thing. Even until now, I go back and forth across, well,  the spectrum too. There are days I am on the high end of it being content, grateful and at peace with what my boys are living with. What we are living with. Grateful for the many good things that Autism has brought to our life-- Learning how to pay attention and be grateful at the littlest milestones, learning to be truly present and finding the capacity to love a little more deeply than I would have ever thought possible. 

      And then there are darker days where I find myself at the lower end of the such spectrum where I am angry.  At whom or what? At almost everybody and everything-- At the world, at the possible causes of autism, at the genetic vulnerability I may have passed on to my boys, angry at the possibility of how several theories of how certain medical procedures thought to protect our children from diseases are actually purposeful concoctions to cause what my boys are living with now. Angry at the fact that there is no way to know the truth of it all. Angry at the uncertainty. Angry at the things they will never get to experience.  Angry at the Universe culminating with the question, "What have my boys ever done to deserve this?" Of course, there are no answers.

          So what do I do in these darker days? I try to be with what is, saying, "Yes, this too." This anger at everything and everyone is included in my life.  It's okay. Every part of this coming to terms with Autism is included in my life. Come, Anger, sit with me. I can be with you. You are much a part of me as gratitude. As peace. As contentment. And then when my heart feels like it could explode into a million pieces, I weep.  I come face to face with my anger's real name-- Hurt and Grief. 

         In this time of necessary isolation, I am compelled to go further inward as a mother, to see what has come to pass, to be fully present in the highs and lows of motherhood's spectrum, the bright and dark places of this very human experience. To be grateful, to be at peace, to be content. Also to be angry, to be hurt, to grieve. More importantly, to take to heart how Autism has taught me to love more deeply than I would have ever thought possible. And it is because of this deeper capacity to love that anger, hurt and grief is ever-present as well. I realize now that everything has a place in my life. My heart has room enough for everything that I encounter because of this.  

         It is May 17, 2020. Garret is 15 now. Morgan is 12. Morgan is physically bigger and taller than Garret. Whenever I call Morgan out for disarranging the pillows on the bed, Garret rushes to fix them. Whenever it is time for Morgan to help out in the chores, he is quick to do it for his brother. He purposefully leaves pieces of bread on his plate so Morgan can have more bread. Whenever I raise my voice at Morgan for being naughty, Garret tells me, "Okay, okay." It is his way of pleading me not to get angry at his brother. Garret loves his younger brother more than himself, it would seem.  

     Coming to terms with Autism in our lives isn't a one-time thing. Life isn't at all a one-sided happening. There are joyful moments and desolate ones. Light and darkness. And many more shades and degrees in between.  The heart opens and closes for as long as it is alive. Spectrum, Merriam-Webster defines it as a continuum of color formed when a beam of white light is disperse. My boys have Autism Spectrum Disorder.  I am in it with them for as long as I am alive. Our everyday life with autism is as wide and varied as the band of colors formed by a beam of white light dispersed as seen in a rainbow.  This is how it is. This is how it shall always be. What a beautiful life it is. What a beautiful life it shall always be.