Today, Andrew bowled a strike. It was with bumpers in place and with a candlepin ball, but it made him so very happy. Truthfully, I have never bowled a strike so I am impressed :-)
Earlier this week, Andrew asked why his big sister refused to forgive him after he apologized to her for invading her privacy. He is learning what empathy is. At age 11.5, living with autism, he is meeting the social and emotional milestones of a child much younger. And I couldn't be more proud of him.
I remember the day he first said "I love you" back to me like it was yesterday. He was 5. I was tucking him into his top bunk bed and said, as I did every day, "I love you Andrew". His little voice said "I love you Mommy". It's cliche, I was so happy to hear those three little words from him for the first time, I cried after I left the room. I was both amazed and humbled by the power of his words, after years of speech therapy and the methodical teaching we know works best for children with autism.
As I look at this boy/young man, I feel blessed to be his mom. I feel in both ways angry at and bad for his autism. We play the "two steps forward, one step back" game, always have and always will. Do I love him in a different way than I love my daughters? Truthfully, yes. Do I worry about him and what his future will hold more? Yes. Am I forever grateful he has three sisters who I trust will always be there to help him reach his goals far into the future when I can no longer care for him? Yes, he may drive them crazy at times, but they are fiercely protective of their brother.
Today, bowling made Andrew happy and he felt successful. Taking it one day at a time is all we can do when the "enemy" (the A word is what Sarah calls it) is so powerful and takes hold at erratic times and makes things so damn hard for him, and for our family. So, we carry on and celebrate the small victories. Every night before bed I tell him, "I love you, Andrew". His response: "I love you, Mom". That is a gift I hold close to my heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment