A Letter To My Son
Dear Aspie,
2008 has been a challenging and enlightening year. I came to understand so much more about you and maybe, really, just got to meet you for the first time. It is expected that a mother automatically knows her child. I think I knew my vision of you.
When you were a baby, I thought it was sweet the way you would roll your eyes at me when I tried to play with you. You’d sigh and give me a look of disgust like you were trying so hard to tolerate me but just could not.
You always were an old and curmudgeonly man. You’d only ever smile on your own terms. Structure was your safety zone and all was right in the world as long as the trash can lid was firmly closed and you weren’t wearing socks. I thought your quirks adorable; it was just your way.
You didn’t start speaking until you were two. But when you began, you made an impressive debut. I never thought it was unusual to have a child still in diapers that used words like specific and landmark. It was just your way.
Oh how you hated dirt. And rain. And all things sticky. Sounds and bright lights. I thought you were just fastidious and dramatic.
More recently, when you became quite obsessive with your collection of ascots and velvet sport coats, I just figured you were gay.
But the thing that has always bothered me the most is the sadness that is within you. It’s not something you really verbalize but it is always there, looking right at me. And 2008 began with me really staring back and accepting that all was not right in your world.
So yeah. This is the year that you got a title. At first, finding out that you were an Aspie was really devastating to me. It was the death of the dream where you were just like every other kid. I don’t know where the hell I got that dream from because you were never like any other kid. And I am ashamed to admit it, but I also went through a phase where I felt I couldn’t connect to you. That was tough because, through all of the changes in our life together, it has been you and me from the beginning. I felt really disoriented during our time of disconnect. But I am working, and I hope you’ve noticed, on helping you. Really not changing you but just helping this world feel safer and more hospitable to you.
In the beginning, I wanted to fix this. I wanted to get all Jenny McCarthy on your ass and cure you. But one day it changed for me; what would I be curing you of? Yourself? When I look at you, and who you are, what you represent, being an Aspie is you. No, you are not defined by a syndrome but to take away all the wonderful qualities that are related to it would erase important parts of you. You are the child that worries about over-population of the planet and bike safety. I want you to always care. As an aside, I could do without the daily, three digit number multiplication drills you feel the need to inflict upon me. I get it; you’re smart, I’m not.
And sometimes, like today when I snapped these pictures of you, I feel like I’ve helped you if only a little bit. Because I can see that your lifelong sadness is fading a bit. You were always loved but now you are also understood and your reinforcements are in place. In feeling safer and known, I see the glimpses of levity that you now are capable of feeling. It’s just your way…and your way is really awesome.
This entry was posted on Monday, December 22nd, 2008 at 3:32 am and is filed under Asperger's Syndrome, Aspie, children, parenting. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
December 22nd, 2008 at 4:30 am
wendie,
Love your writing, love your work on Evil Beet Gossip, and think your children are ridiculously adorable. This letter moves me tears and giggles which I cannot fully understand without having been in your proverbial shoes (please note: hate proverbs; love shoes).
I just wanted to make a literature recommendation (if you haven’t already heard of it and/or read it, of course)…”The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time” by Mark Haddon. It’s a fast and easy read from the perspective of a 15-year old autistic child. It is one of those gem novels that I have found in a haystack of necrotizing bologna. Happy Holidays to you and your family!
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December 22nd, 2008 at 8:18 am
Necrotizing bologna? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year…o…m…g.
Thanks for the recommendation. I’m totally ordering it up on my Kindle.
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December 22nd, 2008 at 8:39 am
I’m crying. Seriously? On a Monday morning, when I have TONS of stuff to do today? Thanks.
Honestly, this was beautifully written, W. And his way IS awesome. The photos are gorgeous and I’m printing them out for my fridge. Give him a kiss from me, whether he likes it or not. And tell him I need a new equation to work out on my road trip. Thanks.
PS – The JETS??? Truly heartbreaking.
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December 22nd, 2008 at 9:52 am
“As an aside, I could do without the daily, three digit number multiplication drills you feel the need to inflict upon me. I get it; you’re smart, I’m not.”
May I take this time to remind you of your score on that IQ test we both took?
GREAT post sweetheart
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December 22nd, 2008 at 12:18 pm
simply beauitiful, wendie.
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December 22nd, 2008 at 7:56 pm
Your honesty and grace is beautiful.
Thank you for sharing Wendie.
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December 23rd, 2008 at 3:56 pm
Wow..beautifully written. Thanks for sharing.
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December 24th, 2008 at 8:35 am
I agree completely. This was honest and beautifully written. I love your blog, and I think all your stuff on Evil beet is endlessly entertaining. You’re great and your kids are hilarious.
-Happy Holidays, too! :]
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December 26th, 2008 at 1:31 pm
I lol’d at the “I just thought you were gay” part of the letter, and then I got a bit misty eyed. The videos were saved for last and I lol’d. You’re blessed, and I’m overly jealous of you. Your kids are adorable.
Your accent on the other hand made me do a double take :p
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December 27th, 2008 at 6:33 pm
As a teacher and former babysitter and now friend of an amazing young man with Asperger’s (who now, against all odds, drives a car and holds down a full-time job), I just wanted to share how touched I was by your letter. Oh, and I love your work on Evil Beet : )
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December 28th, 2008 at 3:38 pm
Beautiful and honest post, Wendie.
You’ve got a cute accent, but even cuter kids
)
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December 30th, 2008 at 10:15 pm
beautiful, your words and your children…i also at one time thought my son was gay…turns out he’s just clean….go figure
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December 31st, 2008 at 6:01 pm
Wendie~
Your letter to your son was as if you were describing my son and our journey. He has always been my odd little old man too. I think he is one of my favorite people on this earth. Enjoy!
~
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May 4th, 2009 at 10:52 am
I was just about to post the same reference!!! My husband works with adult Autistic males and we both just loved the book. He said, it made him understand their world better and perhaps how we could live in it. BTW, that was a beautiful note to your son.
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May 4th, 2009 at 11:47 am
Beautiful just beautiful! The past two years of my sister’s life has been a whirlwind of tears, turmoil, discovery, sadness, and every other emotion you can think of since her son was diagnosed. Our entire family has engulfed ourselves in research and learning about Autism. And I love directing her toward posts like this. Mothers really need to share their stories with one another, because I know too many mothers of autistic children that feel completely alone and are literally crumbling before their kid’s eyes. Love that you did this. I myself have a high needs, spirited child (which very well may turn into ADD) and I know what it’s like to have an idea in your head of what they will be like and then suddenly see them set apart from the rest of the kids around them. But of course each day I am learning to embrace and accept who she is. Because if I didn’t, then I would truly be a horrible mother.
Jenny Mcarthy blows!
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September 25th, 2009 at 4:58 am
I am a 35 years old man just recently diagnosed with asperger´s syndrome (and I suspect that my father was an aspie too) with a caring, loving mother like you….
Your letter was great !
With backing from family and friends, an aspie can be quite succesful in life.
Yes, aspies are prone to depression, and we may feel alone at times, but with a bit of understanding from others we behave well in society.
Love and understanding can do miracles in relieving us from our anguish and sadeness…
Reading your letter helps me understand my own mothers´s feelings, thank you wendie, keep up your great work with your charming son…..
P.S. by the way, I am a big fan of evilbeet´s
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