Three and half years ago my daughter had moderately severe autism spectrum disorder. She did not make eye contact. She did not point. She would not play. She did not sleep. She said a handful of words and that was all. The only typical thing she did at the tender age of 2 was run and eat.
It's surreal. I don't know if it will ever stop being surreal to me.
I have moments of pure joy when she looks into my eyes, rubs the hair away from my face, and says to me, "I love you, forever, Mommy. Always. I will never leave you. Just you and me, Mommy. Forever. Okay?"
I have moments of heartache when all three of my girls giggle and laugh at the table when they talk about when they were babies and they ask what 'baby names' they called each other. The giggle when I answer that Maddy didn't really talk to anyone. She called her twin "Baby" but that was about it. No names for her oldest sister. It's hard for me to think about the almost alien gibberish she would make when she got really excited and would stop her feet really fast. These things that I can't really share with them. Not now. Not when they are enjoying the memories of the past.
Moments of frustration when she has chewed yet another pencil to bits. The chewing is the last to go. Almost every "characteristic" has faded but the chewing. She still loves to have something in that mouth.
Moments of memoir when a phrase changes meanings for her. Recently I lost my temper with her and when I was apologizing later, I said, "Sorry I lost my cool." She quickly said, "No, Mommy, you're still awesome!"
Is this what it is like to raise a child who was once so lost and is now found?
Tomorrow we go back to see Dr. MAL for her regular 6 month check up. Am I concerned? Not necessarily. Yes, there is a part of me that ALWAYS gets nervous going to these appointments. I love Dr. MAL but ugh...still nerve wracking. (bring on the vineland and GARS)
Yet as I sit in the office and listen to the Barbie conversations going on in the next room with all three of my girls...my heart smiles.
It's surreal. I don't know if it will ever stop being surreal to me.
I have moments of pure joy when she looks into my eyes, rubs the hair away from my face, and says to me, "I love you, forever, Mommy. Always. I will never leave you. Just you and me, Mommy. Forever. Okay?"
I have moments of heartache when all three of my girls giggle and laugh at the table when they talk about when they were babies and they ask what 'baby names' they called each other. The giggle when I answer that Maddy didn't really talk to anyone. She called her twin "Baby" but that was about it. No names for her oldest sister. It's hard for me to think about the almost alien gibberish she would make when she got really excited and would stop her feet really fast. These things that I can't really share with them. Not now. Not when they are enjoying the memories of the past.
Moments of frustration when she has chewed yet another pencil to bits. The chewing is the last to go. Almost every "characteristic" has faded but the chewing. She still loves to have something in that mouth.
Moments of memoir when a phrase changes meanings for her. Recently I lost my temper with her and when I was apologizing later, I said, "Sorry I lost my cool." She quickly said, "No, Mommy, you're still awesome!"
Is this what it is like to raise a child who was once so lost and is now found?
Tomorrow we go back to see Dr. MAL for her regular 6 month check up. Am I concerned? Not necessarily. Yes, there is a part of me that ALWAYS gets nervous going to these appointments. I love Dr. MAL but ugh...still nerve wracking. (bring on the vineland and GARS)
Yet as I sit in the office and listen to the Barbie conversations going on in the next room with all three of my girls...my heart smiles.
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