Autism Spectrum Disorder. The National Institute of Mental Health defines it as
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.
: a developmental disorder that involves impairment in communication, social skills and repetitive behaviors and restricted interestIt 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.
: is known as a "spectrum" disorder because there is wide variation in the type and severity of symptoms people experience.
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.
