I have always enjoyed making people laugh, but that went away for a little while once I became a mother. I suffered from pretty intense postpartum depression after my oldest was born. Not realizing what was happening, I thought the rage, the doubt, and the fear were normal: “It must be hormones.” “My body just went through so much.” “I’m adjusting to the new me.” It wasn’t until I was sitting on the couch with my husband and I cracked a joke that it hit me. My husband and I both laughed and he said,” that’s the first time you’ve laughed in a long time”. And it was. It was the first time I had felt happy in months. The lights switched on and I felt clearheaded. It was amazing! But that also meant I was able to look back and see it all. My absolute saint of a husband had been taking quite a beating. Something really cool happened though. I was able to own it. I was able to look at my husband and ask,” is this real?” and he could tell me yes or no. I was able to start taking responsibility for my words, my actions, my “crazy”. To this day I still struggle and I still have to ask if it’s real. (It’s usually not) But by owning it and asking other people for help, I was able to find out what kind of mother I wanted to be. Instead of slipping into a yelling, frustrated, weeping mother, I could find my own way. I started talking about it and asking questions. I was learning, growing, and finding better ways, and it worked! I really didn’t have to follow someone else’s path. I didn’t have to stop laughing or being sarcastic or having fun with my kids. I didn’t have to fill their days with structured pinstabook activities. They didn’t have to be reading Joyce by 3 years old. I was finding my stride! I. WAS. PUMPED.
Then autism happened. If I thought I had been through depression before, I hadn’t seen anything yet. I was trying everything that had worked before, and nothing worked. I was lost. I was gone and I couldn’t find my way back. I couldn’t find my way to anyone or anything. I fantasized about just leaving and letting my husband and kids find a wife, a mother, who could actually do this successfully. Everyone was going to suffer if I stayed. I didn’t know anything about autism or speech delays or ABA or pediatric neuropsychology or how to do any of this. I was standing in front of a mountain that had no path, no trails, and it went straight up to a summit hidden by clouds of doubt and despair. Because I couldn’t find a way to start climbing, I just stood there. I stood completely still for a long time, just staring at the impossible. Seven months in, my husband sat me down and told me it was time to begin climbing. Autism and the battle it brought with it were here to stay.
Then the first miracle happened. We were fortunate enough to stumble upon THE dream team of therapists. These women came into my life and changed EVERYTHING for the better. And when I say everything, I mean Every! Single! Thing! We wanted to be able to take the kids to the park without Jack running away. But autism brings elopement and with his speech delay, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back. “We can fix that” We wanted Jack to be able to communicate “We can do that” We wanted to keep Jack, just how he was. We wanted his curiosity, his wonder, his humor, his imagination, his stubbornness, everything that made him Jack, to stay. “We won’t change him, just help teach him what’s necessary to be successful and independent” I could go on for days and days about our wishlist and what these women have delivered. Jack has put in the hard work but these women, I have no words flattering enough for what they brought to our lives.
The second of my miracles was finding my very small tribe of true friends that I could tell anything to. About 9 months into Jack’s therapy, he ate a fish. Wait, lets back up. Jack earned a Beta fish in therapy. Guys, he worked really hard for that fish. Three days after he earned it, we woke up and the fish was gone. The fishbowl was still there. The water and rocks were still there. The fish was NOT. We asked Jack where his fish was and he said,” I ate it”. HE ATE IT?!?! I burst into tears. My greatest fear of raising a serial killer was coming true. He’s hurting animals. Now we wait for the bedwetting and fire starting. My husband sat with him and they talked for a long time. Jack had woken up in the night and was hungry. He wanted fish. He looked in the refrigerator and not finding any fish decided cooking his fish in the toaster was the perfect solution. He said his fish “tasted purple”. He seasoned him with salt and pepper. He ate the fish with a knife and fork in three bites. I was horrified. I called our lead therapist, not being able to breathe from uncontrollable sobbing and she said,” my son did that when he was about 6.” I texted D, my perfect, pretty, sarcastic angel of a friend and she said,”and?” I knew her accepting and reassuring response must be a fluke. I texted A (my soul sister and also an absolute angel of a human) and she laughed. I took him to the Dr and his reply was,” you need to make sure he knows not to cook unless y’all are nearby” What? Jack wasn’t a serial killer? My friends weren’t running away in horror? Our therapists weren’t calling CPS? Maybe I had been looking at this all wrong. Maybe I could do this with the right team, the right friends, and the right sense of humor. We now laugh about the “fish incident.”
And just like that, I came full circle. I found my way back to myself. I was able to look around and not be embarrassed or feel weird. If people came into my life and they didn’t fit or understand, there’s the door. I. Was. Pumped. (Again)
Then amazing things started happening. Jack started making huge strides! He took off with a structured schedule and therapy. He never stops talking now. Seriously, ever.
Eli and Adelaide were thriving too. It turns out, my kids function best with a schedule and when they know what to expect. With our oldest having autism, as Eli started to grow, it was like having 2 firstborn kids. Eli is “neurotypical” and was meeting or exceeding the milestones. Adelaide quickly followed suit and we fell into our new normal. Do we have tons of bumps? YES! So many bumps. However, we mostly laugh our way through. Our most used phrase at home is “what do we say? Ain’t no thang!”
I realized we have bigger fish to fry (see what I did there?!) than how they wanted to wear their hair or whether rain boots were appropriate for everyday wear. Things got much smoother. And what has happened is, my kids can be who they are. And they are truly authentic every second of every day. Our parenting not only doesn’t work for everyone, it shouldn’t. It works for us. And I wouldn’t change these hilarious, witty, smart ass kids for anything in the world.
Incessant Buffoonery 