We knew from our first hospital stay this wasn't going to be easy, but I'm thankful every day to have you as my partner on this journey. As involved as I may be, I know the majority of this burden falls to you, and I am forever grateful.
Dancing Hands
Evincing a common autism trait, my son's hands are always on the move, fingers bending or stiffening, balled up or widely splayed, seemingly living a life of their own.
When he's excited, he flattens his hands and pats downward on some invisible surface. When I walk with him, it's as though the hand he's offered me enjoys the quiet comfort of being clutched in my own. Even at rest his fingers strike the pose of those about to tickle ivories, or they find themselves holding something — anything — just to keep themselves occupied.
Of the outward signs of autism I've come to worry about, these dancing hands and their endless explorations do not bother me so much. They seem to reflect all the curiosity and energy and joy that characterize C himself.
These hands dance because of autism.
I'm coming to develop an unexpected gratitude for these small gifts bestowed upon us when it seems as though others have been taken away.
Breaking the Bank
Tonight M (my neurotypical son) said, "I want to go to the bank with my piggy bank and get a lot of money to give to you so you can stay home with C all the time and I can play with Mommy all the time." His words stand as a reminder to me: never underestimate how much these little ones pick up, how aware they are of what's happening around them.
A Boy with a Tube in a Tube
On Sunday C asked me to help him climb a ladder on the jungle gym and watch him go down a tube slide, both things he wouldn't even consider as recently as a week ago. Tonight he actually helped vacuum the carpet (parents of ASD kids know how anxiety-inducing the scary vacuum can be).
I'm so proud of my little guy, not just for his achievements, but for his desire to try.
The Moment I've Been Waiting For
Tonight, as the boys were in their beds, C stood bolt upright, leaned over, and said, "I want hug, M. Want hug, M. Kiss!"
This moment was unscripted, unprompted, and impromptu. It is, in my opinion, huge. C wanted an interaction with another child, with his sibling, and he asked for it.
Of course, M had no idea how to react: he stood there and reached out, and C grabbed his hand. That's okay. There's time, and there's hope.