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-Gabe is age appropriate for his ABLLS -R (Assessment for Basic Language and learning Skills- Revised).
He is age appropriate!
He walks, talks and acts like a soon to be 4 year old.
He is picking up things at lightning speed. Gabe is filling in a lot of the gaps all on his own-no program, no fruit snack reinforcers....just Gabe putting all the pieces together. He has not completed the ABLLS, but he is on his way!
*LOUD APPLAUSE*
*Bring in the band! *
*Swedish Fish for everyone!*
He is age appropriate!
He walks, talks and acts like a soon to be 4 year old.
He is picking up things at lightning speed. Gabe is filling in a lot of the gaps all on his own-no program, no fruit snack reinforcers....just Gabe putting all the pieces together. He has not completed the ABLLS, but he is on his way!
*LOUD APPLAUSE*
*Bring in the band! *
*Swedish Fish for everyone!*
I wonder, silently (selfishly?), where does that leave me? What I mean is, what role will I play now? I obviously will still be Gabe's mom, but his needs are different. It feels like a shift, movement of the earth's plates, similar to your child entering the years of being a teenager. The years where what you thought was right, could be so very wrong. How do you navigate that world?
I left the NT world 2 years ago. I left the phony friendships that were based on where you live, what kind of house you have and the image of being the "perfect" mom. I was scared, but somewhat relieved. I was losing that race quickly, I was more interested on where I was going with my kids then who was running next to me and if they were wearing the "right outfit".
I left the NT world 2 years ago. I left the phony friendships that were based on where you live, what kind of house you have and the image of being the "perfect" mom. I was scared, but somewhat relieved. I was losing that race quickly, I was more interested on where I was going with my kids then who was running next to me and if they were wearing the "right outfit".
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In return, after venturing forward in a completely different direction, I was then unconditionally embraced by this Autism Ring and other parents with children on the spectrum. I found a world that revolved around what it truly meant to be a parent, especially a mother. I have felt more of a connection to the amazing women and men through our Autismring, than neighbors I have lived next to for the past five years. I have cheered, cried and sent good vibes to many who have posted ideas and thoughts about their children that have enabled me to push through another day. I will forever be grateful.
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When I am asked about what I think are the first things a parent with a child newly diagnosed ASD, I always say, get the best evaluation you can afford, write everything down (everything) and read blogs or journals by other parents with children who have ASD. You can begin to feel very alone and just reading other parents thoughts can be very comforting. The world of ASD doesn't have to always have horrible connotations. I have found that doorways exist here that would've never been opened anywhere else. I have had many doors closed with the mere mention of ASD, painfully, right in front of me. There were also many more opened for me by another caring parent who just knew what it was I was going through with Gabe, because ASD had touched their lives too.
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My son is ready to move on. He is ready to explore beyond the world that I have created. He is dipping his sweet, little toes in the crisp, cool, spring puddles. He is dancing around the edges, laughing at his reflection, admiring the ripples created by the gentle tap of his foot. I, however, can't help but hover, anxiously, arms poised to catch each and every possible fall. I am on the sides, trying to cover the puddles with my coat, hand within reaching distance, hoping to guide him safely around them. I am still the mother that worried about her son night and day, spent late evenings reading anything and everything about Autism, called doctors and pursed answers. I can't just flip the switch to off and leave that person behind. I can't seem to even dim the light.
Am I out of my mind?
This is the path Gabe has created. This is where he needs to go. All his therapy has lead him here. Isn't this the road I created? Shouldn't I be skipping, running towards the end?
I am.
I am overjoyed.
I am estactic.
With it comes anxiety (Can it be true?) Hope that seems so fragile (How long will it last?) Self doubt (Will I recognize when he is having trouble again?)
I know that we are heading in the right direction. The world just looks different. Sunnier perhaps? More flowers? More smiles?
Change is hard for me, but it seems to really work for Gabe.
My son is ready to move on. He is ready to explore beyond the world that I have created. He is dipping his sweet, little toes in the crisp, cool, spring puddles. He is dancing around the edges, laughing at his reflection, admiring the ripples created by the gentle tap of his foot. I, however, can't help but hover, anxiously, arms poised to catch each and every possible fall. I am on the sides, trying to cover the puddles with my coat, hand within reaching distance, hoping to guide him safely around them. I am still the mother that worried about her son night and day, spent late evenings reading anything and everything about Autism, called doctors and pursed answers. I can't just flip the switch to off and leave that person behind. I can't seem to even dim the light.
Am I out of my mind?
This is the path Gabe has created. This is where he needs to go. All his therapy has lead him here. Isn't this the road I created? Shouldn't I be skipping, running towards the end?
I am.
I am overjoyed.
I am estactic.
With it comes anxiety (Can it be true?) Hope that seems so fragile (How long will it last?) Self doubt (Will I recognize when he is having trouble again?)
I know that we are heading in the right direction. The world just looks different. Sunnier perhaps? More flowers? More smiles?
Change is hard for me, but it seems to really work for Gabe.
