have for their children. Having wealth, independence, and a few grandchildren were in there somewhere too, because that's just the way parents are. We want our children to be able to leave the nest someday and have the skills needed to go build one of their own.
When things started to get tough, my goals changed. For a while, it was enough just to have my son live to reach adulthood. In those days of his whirlwind activity and little common sense, I was sure I'd lose him. Just let him live, I prayed. Whatever comes next I will deal with, but don't let me lose him before he's 3 years old. When he made it to the age of 3, I prayed he would make it to 5 years. And when he made it that far, I prayed he would make it to 7.
Slowly, as he grew, his life became more stable. I realized there was a very good chance he would make it to adulthood. Then what? How would my son live as an adult? Would he be dependent on me? Or (an even scarier thought) dependent on someone else? Would he be naive and unsuited for facing the challenges of the real world? Would he land himself in prison? After all, social blunders that are no-no's when you're 6 years old become criminal offenses by the time you're 20. More than anything else, I wanted to enjoy the relative safety of normalcy. If my son was “normal,” then he would be ready at some point to face the world on his own. I wanted someone, somewhere, to find a way for my little boy to grow up to be just like all the other kids. I didn't want him to have a hard life, and I didn't want one for myself either. I wanted normal.
It took a few more years for me to figure out that “normal” wasn't going to happen. My boy wasn't going to be a typical kid. Not now, not ever. He would improve and build skills and mature, but his autism was always going to be there, waiting and setting traps here and there for the rest of his life. It was a hard realization for me. My goals evaporated. As I came to understand that there was no path to reach them, I let them go. Instead, I kept my eyes on today and what was immediately in front of us, ignoring a future I didn't want to contemplate. If he could be 10 years old forever, tucked here under my wing, I thought maybe then I could keep him safe, and perhaps I could make sure he had a happy life. I replaced my goals with denial to preserve my sanity.
I hadn't given up; not really. I was taking a breather. I indulged in an emotional trip past reality so I could heal myself enough to face tomorrow, enough to look down deep and find my sweet little boy again in that jumble of blue jeans and dirty sneakers and differences. He wasn't going to be a typical kid, not now, not ever, but that was okay. He was still wonderful, even with one foot in another world. His life would be filled with challenges, but that's what life is; with or without autism, everyone has hills to climb. He had skills and talents—we could build on them. His weaknesses wouldn't be so bad if he was aware of them and had tools to work around them. His life might be difficult, but that was okay, because I could help him find his place in the world.
So what do I want for him now? Life, love, and happiness—the same hopes all parents have for their children. Wealth, independence, and a few grandchildren are in there, too, but if those things aren't in the cards for us, it's okay. Happiness and security will be enough for me.
Many people with mild autism contributed to building our country's space program. Men and women who were fascinated with computers, engineering, and the stars focused their attention on the millions of details that make up a spacecraft and its support systems. Together, they helped build a pathway for space exploration and gathering knowledge about what exists beyond our planet.
Chefs have a fair number of people with mild autism in their ranks. Their extra-sensitive palates, their relentless passion to refine their results, and their insistence on maintaining structure and routines in their kitchens to ensure cleanliness and safety are necessary attributes in a chef. They're all traits of autism, too.
More than a few musicians and composers are on the autism spectrum. They play until their fingers bleed, and their extra-sensitive hearing and unique memories allow them to be able to turn the sounds in their minds into music that captivates us. Mathematicians, statisticians, and accountants are fascinated by numbers. They focus on details, enjoy routine, and are able to see the patterns mathematics make. Lawyers have encyclopedic memories and a relentless drive. Surgeons have an excellent grasp of spatial relationships, vast stores of knowledge, and a fascination with making complex body systems work as they should. While not all people who practice these trades have autism, many do.
It is believed that Nikola Tesla, Albert Einstein, and Thomas Edison may have had mild autism. Generations of lesser-known men and women have also used their autistic attributes to lead happy and productive lives. Their ability to hyperfocus and their attention to detail were called “persistence” and “craftsmanship.” Their fascination with special interests led them to become experts in their fields. They found trades that capitalized on their overresponsive sensory systems, and they improved their social skills until they no longer served as a barrier to finding employment or having relationships. Many people have succeeded in life not only despite their autism, but in some ways, because of it.
As a parent, I know this. I've seen examples of successful people in the books and articles I've read about autism, in the lectures I've attended, and in my consultations with experts. I've heard the stories from other moms in our group; we pass them around like soldiers passing a bottle of spirits around a campfire. They give us hope and courage and keep us warm and able to face tomorrow. These folks made it; our kids can, too. We tell this to each other and to ourselves, and we believe it. Most days.
But, we've all heard stories about the other people, too—the ones who are unable to overcome the difficulties autism can bring. We've heard about the lonely men and women, who are at odds with their families and who long for an intimate relationship but can't maintain one. There are people who are tormented by obsessive-compulsive disorder or who are so socially naive, they are in danger of being preyed upon. Unhealthy, inappropriate, or “odd” behaviors have kept a number of people from working or living independently. Some who lack an understanding of social concepts and have an inability to control their anger wind up in jail. And sadly, there are anxiety-driven adults and children who finally decide that suicide offers them the peace they couldn't find in life.
We've heard these stories, too. We don't talk about them, but we think about them.
The scary part is that there aren't any predictors that can tell us how our children will turn out. There are many people who were severely affected by autism as children, but thanks to therapeutic interventions, improved communication skills, medications, and a large dose of determination and passion, they have grown into fully functioning adults. They still have autism, but they cope with life well. There are also people whose strengths and weaknesses change very little throughout their lives. And there are children who begin life well but are overtaken later by uncontrollable anxiety, rage, and other issues that follow them into painful and sometimes dangerous adulthoods.
As I watch my child grow, I see him follow each of these paths at different times. Sometimes he's doing great. Other days aren't so good. Some days are scary, and sometimes days can turn into weeks and months of “scary.” We may be doing well now, but we've had the rug pulled out from under us before, many times. I know it could happen again, and there is no way I can stop it.
If I knew that my son had a good chance of ultimately being able to lead a happy adult life, I could live with the scary times. I could stay productive and positive and deal with today, so we can reach tomorrow. But I don't know this for certain. Neither do his doctors, teachers, therapists, or any other expert out there. There is no set developmental path for our kids. There are no indicators for how children with specific types of autism will develop. Therapies and interventions are essential. Good parenting is crucial. A great environment is priceless. But too often, these things aren't enough. Despite all
