Sometimes I feel like I live in two very different worlds. I have three little boys, and all of them are individuals – with their own tastes, their own interests and their own quirks. But two of them have one thing in common, they both have autism. And that puts the boys into two different groups, and I have to be two different mothers, often at the very same time.
People often ask me what the hardest thing is about having children with autism. I never know what to answer. Part of that is simply me, my nature. It is what it is. They are your children, you love them, you do everything you can for them. In that way, it’s absolutely no different than any other child.
Balancing the very different needs of those children is the hard part. I’m sure it’s a problem for every parent with more than one child. You always wonder if you’re doing enough for one or too much for another. At what point does helping one become an inconvenience or sacrifice of the other.
That is the hard part.
There are so many experiences that Connor has missed out on, or that have been different or later for him, simply because of his brothers. T-ball came in the fall, at almost six years old instead of four, when many kids start. Not because Connor wasn’t ready or wouldn’t have enjoyed it. Because we weren’t sure how to make it work with two brothers who never enjoyed sitting through one of their cousin Austin’s baseball games – a once or twice a season occurrence. If that was too much for them, what would weekly games and practice sessions do for them. Or even if we took them, what kind of distraction would they be for Connor, his teammates or his coaches. I can tell you, even this year, it was hard. They screamed and cried and were not at all fans of t-ball. And while I was thrilled for Connor to have the experience, it was not always a fun one for the rest of us.
That’s just one example. There are birthday parties – friends and family alike – that we have avoided. Play dates with other friends, because venues were too open or too much for the twins to handle. Dinners out at a restaurant, whether just as our family or with others. Trips to the zoo or the pool or the aquarium or any other place you could imagine. They have been few and far between. Connor would like them, but there was always the question of how the twins would react, how they would behave, and simply whether or not we could manage it.
More often than not, we take the divide and conquer approach. One parent stays with the twins in a more manageable environment. Connor goes with the other on limited adventures. Or, more frequently, another outside family member takes Connor on a fun adventure. Without that, he would not have nearly the experiences that he has in his six years. He’s been to the zoo, the aquarium, movies, parks, museums, the beach, the mountains, overnight visits with out-of-town family members. He’s actually well-traveled. And we are so extremely grateful to our family members who have helped him have that life. It’s simply not something we can give him right now – not with his twin brothers and their needs.
And that’s hard, too. Wondering, worrying about how it affects him. Will he come to resent his brothers, their ever-present and all-consuming needs that often overshadow his own? Are the separate adventures enough to make up for the typical, everyday family stuff that is missing?
Christmas, or any holiday, always puts it into sharp focus. Connor is excited about Christmas. He couldn’t wait to go with Daddy to cut down the tree and put up Christmas decorations at the house. He’s even begging for outside lights this year. He constantly wants to know how many days until Christmas and often wonders aloud what Santa will bring him this year. He looks forward to dinner with the extended family – and even more presents. And time off from school.
All typical, everyday things.
With the twins, none of those things matter. With their limited communication, what they understand is hard to gauge. Maybe they know the holiday is coming, maybe they don’t. They certainly like to open presents, but their joy seems to come more from pulling the paper off or playing with boxes than the actual toys. The tree is fascinating, because they like to play with the ornaments. But the anticipation, the excitement, simply is not there. If they knew to anticipate dinner with the family, it would not be a happy anticipation. It would mean all day in someone else’s house, with a lot of different people and lots of strange noises that may or may not make them happy.
It is, quite simply, different.
The holidays are both happy and sad. It’s fun to watch Connor get excited for the season, to see his anticipation slowly build all month long. It’s harder to see it side-by-side with his brothers, so unconcerned and unimpressed by what should be a magical time of year. It’s sad not only for them, but for their big brother, who probably is already starting to wonder why his little brothers are so different, why they do not share any of his interests or his excitements.
Three boys, two entirely different worlds …
