Dayenu

It is time for our afternoon joy rides. Papa is at the wheel and the three of us at the backseat. As we settle in, Morgan scoots over to the left side and sits by the window. Garret, on the other hand, is used to sitting on my lap, with both my arms wrapped around his belly like a seat belt. I tell him, "Garret, you can sit by yourself. Look at Morgan sitting like a big boy." He ignores me and is quite happy with the way things are-- him on my lap, secure and comforted by his mama's warm embrace.

Our family is unlike any other regular, normal one where when kids are packed in a car, the noise level is deafening from all the questions and squabbles that the parents can barely hear each other. The scenario that you can actually see when we go on our daily rides is quite different to say the least. Our boys are quiet, save for an excited remark or two when they see a big truck go by or a car speeding fast or when Morgan sees his favorite place of green rice fields and coconut trees. The 45-minute ride is mostly silent. Andro and I are then able to talk about anything-- our plans, our perspectives, our dreams, how our day went. But mostly, we are quiet ourselves. I comment on everything we see, "Look there's a cow and the cow says moo." Morgan sometimes looks at where I'm pointing, Garret too. I kiss my boys over and over while they are watching the world go by. I say to them repeatedly, " I love you, Garret, I love you Morgan". Of course I don't get a reply. And at these moments I ask myself, will I ever hear these three words from them? Or at least hear a simple "Mama"? Morgan is more responsive though. He loves to play on my lap and squeezes my lips when I enunciate words. He looks at me in the eye and smiles his peking duck smile and shrieks to his heart's delight. I will have to content my self with Garret's ready cheek when I ask him for a kiss. And if he is in the mood, he gives me his cute lips to kiss.

I remember 3 years ago when we were still starting to feel our way around this world of the Autism Spectrum Disorder. I was in a roller coaster of emotions not knowing what to feel, how to react, how to handle the reality. An aunt sent me a message that said, "Let us pray and do everything we can to let Garret know our love for him." Upon reading it, I remember my chest tightening realizing how it was indeed going to be very difficult to enter into his mysterious world, to break that barrier that separates his reality from ours. How was I going to let him understand the word "love"? Will he ever understand what loving means? Will he know how much we love him? These were my questions back then. At that point, I knew and understood how motherhood could be the most painful and arduous thing in the world.

Why is it so important for me to hear my son say "I love you" back? Why do I know that the word "mama" will make the most beautiful and comforting music to my ears? I am human. And as with all human beings, I need affirmation. I need validation. Don't all mothers agree with me? Whether you have children with Autism or not, aren't the words "I love you" enough to lighten our load and let us know that we have done right by them? For me, I just need to know that I have somehow chipped down some bricks on the walls surrounding my son's world. I need to know whether I have done everything to let Garret know and understand how much I love him with all my heart, my soul, my everything. I need to know whether I have shown him what it is to truly, truly love. Of course, now I have accepted that his language is different, his world is different, his personhood is different. And I shouldn't demand that he conform to my world and speak my language. He is his own person. And God has a purpose for this. But still... This is why when people say that they have never seen a mother so open-minded or so accepting as me, I always tell them, acceptance is an everyday learning experience for me. It's a process. On the bad days, I just badly wish Garret could speak. On the good ones, I am content with how things are. This is why my prayer every day is that even on the bad days, I remain thankful and say, "Dayenu"--Hebrew for "It would have been enough for us", coined from the 1000-year-old song of the Jewish Passover thanking God for all the gifts he has given to the Jewish people, that if they were given only one of the many gifts, it would have been enough. I pray that my faith will not waver and I will just believe that I have done right by my little prince and that even if I were given only one of the many blessings I have been given, it would have been enough.

We came back from a two-day trip two days ago from Cebu to get Garret's iPad for the purpose of him being able to use Augmentative Communication apps so he can communicate better with us, with the world. When we got back, my aunt who watched over the boys while we were away, excitedly relayed to us how Garret kissed her spontaneously as a request that she play with him some more with his spring slinky. She told us how she was tired already and told Garret, "I'm tired already, kuya, no more play na." Garret then approached his lola-auntie and gave him a kiss. Of course, who could ever refuse a request like that? We were elated. Nothing could contain my joy. At that very moment, I knew, I have done something right. Garret knows what it is to love, or at least show affection, or at least to ask properly and affectionately, not demanding or throwing a tantrum to get what he wants. After all, this is where love begins, right? Tiny bits of affection, no demands, just gentle requests. So what do you know, there was my answer. And the answer to my questions once again were in the most explicit, most undeniable, most immeasurable form--no words required. The answers most certainly spoke volumes, louder, much louder than words that I longed to hear from my little royalty.

Like with everything else in our life with Autism, there are still no overnight changes, the tantrums still come, rigidity and all that. We have come to accept all these and more day by day, or more like hour by hour and minute by minute. And the only way we have come to terms with what have been given to us is to be thankful for every single miracle and disguised blessing-- the silence in joy rides that allow us to quiet our mind and souls as we take in the scenery of rice fields and coconut trees, just as Morgan does, the rain and its coolness that gives us calm as it splatters on the windshield and our Garret and Morgan becomes ecstatic with happiness with it, the unexpected kisses we get when we lay down to sleep as Garret does after caressing our faces smiling with all his heart, happy that we are there beside him, the gentle tap on the hand as he requests for his favorite biscuit, oh and the happy dancing steps Garret makes after he plays ABCD on the iPad for about 50 times, and yes, our Chinese peking duck, Morgan already echoing the last syllables of our words, "Morgan let's go na" and he says, "nah". All these and many more would have been enough. All the little things, great things, bad and good things, beautiful and worst things that we go through with Autism and all ARE enough to show us how blessed we are, how wonderful our Life has been made for us. And when my questions come again when I long for Garret and Morgan to say these three words of love to their papa and me, I will close my eyes, feel the beat of my heart and say to the Universe, "Dayenu. What I have been given is enough."

One of my batch mates in high school told me how reading my posts have taught her what it is to love and to live a very thankful life. She said it so simply that even I who wrote all these words came to pause and reflected again on the very words she learned from my posts. Indeed, maybe the secret to acceptance is to love--to love with a love that needs no words and to be grateful for every single thing for every single moment in my life. Another lesson learned today. Today, I accept that it is okay even if Garret and Morgan cannot say "I love you or Mama" to me. Today I accept Autism in our lives. Dayenu..."