"There is a belief that the Universe is trying to manifest a certain message in bringing special children into this world."
The sun was high in
the afternoon sky. The waves were cerulean and aquamarine with crests, foamy white. Surfers were aplenty in
the line-up. Tourists both local and foreign crowded the tower. Their voices with the sound of the waves filled the space. And here I was standing
with M, letting her words seep in, bringing me to silence.
Many years ago, as
the boys were diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder one after the other,
family and friends tried to comfort me, needless to say, all with good intention. The words
of comfort came in 3 kinds, if one can call it that. One, they would say, “Sige
lang, there is a reason for everything. Two, "God will not give you a load you
are not able to carry". And three, "Having a child with special needs is
"swerte" ". A source of good luck. I remember at the time thinking how
those words were absolutely meaningless. I did not need these ‘explanations’. I
knew on a cerebral level that they meant to help me come to terms with
everything. But they always fell short of the enormity of how I felt. It did
not make sense of the overwhelming future that lay ahead of us. I needed somebody to take back the words of
the doctors at that time. I needed somebody to tell me something
that justified the life sentence, as I saw it back then, that was passed on us.
I did not need good luck. I needed my boys not to be autistic, to be normal. I
needed both of them to be safe in the world. I needed them to go to normal schools, have girlfriends, get a college
degree, have careers and families of their own. I needed what was not handed to us. I needed anything except what was already there.
Over the years, I
learned to cope with every struggle. I learned to deal with every heartache. I
learned to wing “it”, whatever “it” required of me as a mother. I poured my
heart into every word that came out of my fingers and onto the keyboard as I
wrote my questions into stories of how Garret finally said the word, “Mama” at
age 8, of how Morgan, while still nonverbal understood a universe of things.
Suffice it to say that as I wrote, I wept. And as I wept, I was able to carry
on one day at a time. With every tear, I came closer to holding space for this
certain word that would determine how we all would live—acceptance.
A month ago, I immersed in a Yoga and Meditation Retreat in
Siargao. I just came from a deeply emotional session with my teacher and I
wanted to take a breather by seeing the ocean at The Boardwalk. M, my
roommate just arrived from a day of wandering around the island as I was about to leave.
Suffice it to say that after a brief exchange of how was your day, we were on
her motorcycle on our way to The Boardwalk, having an hour and a half worth of
an exchange of words that quieted my heart.
"There is a belief that the Universe is trying to manifest a certain message in bringing special children into this world."
This was what M said to me that warm afternoon.
I realize now not only on a cerebral level but deep in my heart, that the words of comfort said to me many years ago was
all intended to ease my pain and bring me to a place of
acceptance. And if I were to be honest with myself, those words had the same
meaning as what M said to me. But it was only at that very moment that this beautiful blue-eyed soul said those words that I truly felt comforted. It was only in those seconds that the words were
uttered that the enormity of what we have been given finally made sense. It was
on those wooden planks where M and I planted our feet on amid the crowd of tourists, in the high sun and the blue of the ocean that all those lessons
taught to me by autism, by the Universe, by both my boys, finally
manifested itself in the most beautiful form. I do not look at autism now as a
life sentence any longer. At least not in a desolate way anymore. I still see it as a life sentence, but now one that can only be described as a gift. The
gift of pure and utter light in a world of shadows. I know this now. Motherhood is never about what I need. Motherhood was
and always will be what my boys, Garret and Morgan need-- that I fully embrace the light of their nature in every tear
wept, in every anger expressed, in every joy emanated from their bodies, in
every milestone worked for, in the simplest acts of love and understanding that need no words. They need me to be present for all these, to
hold space for the pureness of their hearts, to accept the gift of what
is here. And at the end of every
single waking hour, to be deeply grateful for the gift of who they are.
"The Universe is trying to manifest a certain meaning in bringing special children into this world."
It was the first
time I heard this wisdom phrased this way. Or perhaps because I was finally ready
to hear it and I was ready to learn some more, that it resonated in my heart. I was ready to receive the Universe's gift. And so it brought peace in my soul.
Thank you, M for
that wonderful afternoon. I miss you dearly.
