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Dear Family and Friends,<\/p>\n
I realize I\u2019ve missed the window on the traditional Christmas missive, but since I\u2019ve missed it for the last ten years really, what\u2019s a few more weeks? I\u2019ll admit that part of why I haven\u2019t scripted one is due to the fact that I write about my family every week on this blog (more is overkill, we\u2019re not nearly as exciting as the Kardashians), and partly because I\u2019m just too tired in December to write one more damn thing.<\/p>\n
I know, lame, but honest.<\/p>\n
While those are some superficial reasons why I haven\u2019t penned a long soliloquy about various McCafferty exploits over the years, there are some darker reasons as well, reasons that just didn\u2019t seem in synch with the holiday season.<\/p>\n
Yes, I\u2019m a hero for sparing you.<\/p>\n
You see, I always thought I\u2019d write one of these things after I had a kid, particularly because having our first kid was a two year odyssey for us, and there was no way I was missing out on anything. Four rounds of IVF and three miscarriages later I figured I\u2019d earn the right to share every last giggle, burp and utterly adorable exclamation my hard-earned son made, and since we had him late and I\u2019d read all of your tributes, I thought I\u2019d return the favor.<\/p>\n
However, that first holiday season I was a mom my six- month- old was spinning everything in sight, never slept, and regarded any existence other than the ones my arms could provide as an onerous chore.<\/p>\n
My pen stayed silent that year.<\/p>\n
My second year as a mom started out a bit more propitiously, but by the end my pediatrician had stuffed a bunch of miscopied articles into my hand with the word \u201cautism\u201d in the titles and almost shoved me out the door to await the word of a developmental pediatrician, and I wasn\u2019t feeling so very merry.<\/p>\n
Neither was my toddler.<\/p>\n
We shed our world of outings and fairly depressing playdates and embraced the world of thirty-five hour a week ABA, mostly conducted by me. At the end of that of that third year while my son was still severely autistic things had calmed down a bit, and my boy seemed to respond well to his harried therapist mom. The truth is I still didn\u2019t know what to say to all of you, as I wasn\u2019t sure that explaining how triumphant I felt that I could finally take my boy to the mall without a meltdown (on either of our parts) would translate in your world of school successes, vacations (and to my friends who had children at normal ages), college scouting.<\/p>\n
Plus, I still wasn\u2019t feeling so very merry.<\/p>\n
Over the years I felt our family life (particularly after my second son showed signs of regressive autism at eighteen months) would be such a foreign landscape to my friends with neurotypical kids that I\u2019d have to write two different missives so as to not confuse anyone. Frankly, there seems to be a formula to the traditional missive that involves job changes, travel and school achievements. I\u2019d left my career to be my son\u2019s therapist, and travel entailed an outing to the pharmacy if we were lucky. I just wasn\u2019t certain anyone would \u201cget\u201d my delight that my eldest child adored his older NT buddy at school, or my gratitude he\u2019d been placed in the least behavioral of the three teen-aged classes at his private placement. I wasn\u2019t sure I\u2019d be able to convey my joy that my youngest son\u2019s academic and social needs have been so reduced year to year that he\u2019s now working off the blue print of a 504 rather than an IEP, and most importantly, he loves school, has friends, and adores his life.<\/p>\n
I think I sold all of you short.<\/p>\n
There won\u2019t be any pretty, \u201cwrap-it-up in a perfect bow\u201d final paragraph to outline this last (or hell, ten) year\u2019s achievements. Life here is still both incredibly messy and heartbreakingly beautiful at times. There are days where my eldest hears a song on his DVD player that must harken to his infancy because he\u2019ll take my hands, display his dimple with his across-his-face grin, and all initiated by him, insist we dance. There are other times I\u2019ve sat for almost an hour on the cold tile of my kitchen floor with my back against the freezer to prevent him from having a third damn Philly pretzel (because if one day he gets three the next day he\u2019ll want five, I know to parents of autistic kids I\u2019m preaching to the choir).<\/p>\n
See why I thought I might need to write two different missives?<\/p>\n
The truth is, thirteen years (and two kids) into this autism journey I\u2019ve begun to see more commonality than differences in our families. We (mostly) all sleep now, eat from several different food groups, and within limits we can take Justin wherever we need to go. We\u2019ve all been successfully to Disney (!) twice, my husband\u2019s still employed, and the kids are absolutely thriving at their schools. I\u2019ve even begun to make tentative forays into the \u201cafter-twenty-one\u201d world for my eldest, have glimpsed possibilities that have a good chance of coming to fruition in the next seven years.<\/p>\n
The \u201cabyss\u201d can go to hell.<\/p>\n
Maybe I\u2019ll start a new tradition this December and urge my failing memory to recall the yin and the yang, the good, the bad, and the sometimes excruciatingly irritating, and put it all down on paper.<\/p>\n
Then again, if some chocolate and a good book beckon, don\u2019t hold your breath.<\/p>\n
The truth is, I\u2019m proud of where this family\u2019s ended up, and happy to hear about all of your struggles and accomplishments too. I wish everyone reading this the very best in 2017, and always.<\/p>\n
And to any families just starting out on this path, my belated holiday wish to you is to find your peace.<\/p>\n
For more on my family visit my blog at autismmommytherapist.wordpress.com<\/em><\/p>\n Follow me on Facebook at Autism Mommy-Therapist<\/em><\/p>\n