The other day I was talking to an old high school friend (okay, we were Facebook messaging, but still, we were communicating). She was telling me about how raising a child with autism had given her a greater appreciation for the little moments as she watcher her younger son, who does not have autism, grow up.
I whole-heartedly agreed. Autism does give you a new appreciation for the little things.
My world is upside down compared to hers, my first born does not have autism, but his younger (identical twin) brothers do. Watching them follow so closely behind their brother in age but not milestones has been difficult. The line between where they should be and where they actually are is so clearly drawn because their brother is just 14 months older.
But that doesn't mean I don't stop and appreciate the little moments. Because I do.
Xander uses words. He was silent for so long, and there was no guarantee they would ever come. But they did, slowly but surely, the words are there again.
Sawyer answers to his name and even looks you in the eyes, even if only briefly. It wasn't always the case. Very early on, there were days when he was completely lost inside of himself, sitting in his favorite corner of the house, staring out the window watching leaves blow for hours upon hours without ever once looking up or noticing anyone else, even those sitting right beside him.
Xander plays with his brother. It's fleeting, usually involves some kind of sensory input (chasing or running or tickling), but it's there. The boys have always preferred doing their own thing, playing with toys in their very own, very individual way.
Sawyer will hold your hand, and will even allow brief hugs and kisses. There was a time when he wouldn't let you touch him, when he would arch and scream and cry at the slightest touch. Now he reaches out, grabs my hand and holds on. And at bedtime, he pulls me close and holds on tight, wanting me to stay with him until he falls asleep.
Xander lets you read with him. Both boys always preferred to flip through books on their own, mostly just to see the quick motion of the pages turning. Xander didn't even like letting you sit on his bed with him at bedtime. Now, every single night, we "read" the same book. It's an ABC and 123 book, of course. We go through each letter of the alphabet naming words that start with each one, then we count all the way to 100. He snuggles close, and he usually wants to read it again.
Sawyer tries new foods and drinks. The boys have both been extremely pick eaters, very sensitive to taste and touch and smell. Xander still is, but Sawyer is slowly trying more and more. He will put something up to his closed mouth, where he will smell first and then open his mouth the tiniest bit to taste. Sometimes he will eat something new - like a pizza roll, and sometimes he will push it away. But it's still a huge improvement over where he was, where Xander still is, of simply pushing away anything he doesn't recognize.
Xander loves going to school. He no longer bangs his head against his car seat in protest in car line. He doesn't struggle to put on his backpack or get out of the truck. He bounces out, and often without so much as a
"bye-bye, see you later" or backward glance, he runs into his classroom.
Sawyer smiles. There were times when he walked around with an empty expression, as though nothing interested him or made him happy. Now he smiles, and he laughs. We don't always know the reason for those smiles or laughter, but they are beautiful to see.
Xander says
"love you!" It's another script, something he's learned to say during our bed time ritual. But he stops what he's doing, he looks up at you, and he repeats it back to you with a smile.
All little moments, all easily lost in the day-to-day of school and work and life. But not for us. Because we know, how incredibly long and hard our boys have had to work to get to that point. They are wired differently. The things that come naturally to others do not come easily to them. They have to learn things that go against their own sense of normal. And we take time to celebrate each little moment as it comes.
We also enjoy the little moments with their big brother.
Connor talking to us, telling us how he feels or what he needs.
Connor playing with his brothers, even though they will not play exactly the way he would like or the way his friends would play.
Connor doing his homework, because he simply can.
Connor saying
"I love you" every five minutes and meaning it.
Connor trying everything we eat and telling us it's either
"really good" if he likes or
"disgusting" if he doesn't.
Connor making friends everywhere he goes.
Connor having this amazingly big personality and fearless attitude about trying and doing new things.
Connor simply being Connor.
Autism definitely makes you more aware. You watch and you study, because you're always trying to figure out ways to reach your children, to make life easier or better for them. You simply don't have a choice. And while you're busy watching and studying, you also notice the little things.
This life isn't always easy, but it certainly makes you appreciate the good parts that much more.