Tag Archives: autism mom

growth, change, & autism

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One clear memory from Wilson’s autism diagnosis evaluation has stuck with me.

We sat in a stark room with no windows. The psychiatrist had brought out one activity at a time, then locked them up in a cupboard once they were done.  I vaguely remember a baby, and a pretend birthday cake, and so many blank stares and unanswered questions.  

I sat quietly in the corner as they had requested. No jumping in to answer for him or prompt and encourage him.  The psychiatrist asked me to call his name from across the empty room. 

“Wilson.  Wilson. Wilson!” 

Nothing. He didn’t even turn his head in my general direction.

He wasn’t distracted by toys, which was the reason I had convinced myself he didn’t usually respond to my calls for his attention.  He just casually looked at the doctor, then around the bland room.

It truly seemed like he could not hear me. But we had already been to all those specialists for all of that testing by the time we landed in this office for this autism spectrum disorder evaluation. He could hear perfectly fine.

The psychiatrist asked me to do whatever it is that I do to get his attention at home. So, I said, “Hey buddy!” and eventually walked over and touched his shoulder.

I told her we wondered if he thought his name was “Buddy” since we called him that so often.  Maybe that was why he didn’t respond to his name yet.

Hope and denial and acceptance ran murky lines during those first few years.

Fast forward five years, and I must tell you this boy doesn’t miss an opportunity to say “Hi, Mommy!” or run to the door to say “Hi, Daddy!” when he hears his dad’s truck coming up the driveway.

Change happens. Growth will happen. It may look different for each child, but we will all see it, and we will all feel it.  We will all go through the phases we cannot wait to get out of and the moments we want to freeze in time.

So proud of how hard this boy has worked for all his growth.

my son has autism & he is wired wonderfully

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812D391C-D6C9-426C-99AB-85E4F34C0BE6

“He’s just wired differently.”

We heard this phrase often in those first months after Wilson’s autism diagnosis.  We were trying to wrap our heads around this world of autism in which our son was living.  It’s a fairly simple phrase, which was almost refreshing given the complexities of this disorder we wanted so badly to understand. We’ve since learned that for us, autism is in the moment. It’s unpredictable.  Some days it is two steps forward, and one step back. It’s phases you cannot wait to get out of, and moments you want to freeze in time.  It’s taking the long way. Routine and Repetition. Pure innocence. Unconditional love and loyalty. It’s falling down and getting back up.

Wilson is a typical boy who loves being tickled and chased. He’s into anything that involves jumping, bouncing and spinning. The faster the better. He loves music, building, blowing out birthday candles (it doesn’t matter whose birthday it is), and dressing like his daddy.  He loves anything and everything to do with pirates, trains and keys.

What makes him so different? This is where the wonderful comes in…

He is absolutely enamored with his shadow and reflection. Sometimes his mind and senses are so overloaded that he quite simply needs to be wrapped up tightly in a hug.

He says, “You’re welcome!” whenever someone on the television says “thank you.”

Scripting (reciting lines from movies, books, songs etc.) was Wilson’s first major vehicle for speaking. He could recite scenes from his favorite cartoon and sing songs before he could say “mama”.

Eventually, Wilson learned to use some of those phrases to communicate in his day-to-day life. When he wants you to read him a story, he’ll hand you a book and say “Once upon a time…” Every time he finishes in the bathroom he’ll say “Fantastic! All done!” with his arms in the air.

Much of his speech started as echolalia (repeating what he hears, verbatim.) When I would say, “bye, Wilson” he would reply, “bye, Wilson.” Echolalia is a common way for toddlers to learn and practice language, however, children with autism can have echolalia much further into childhood.  There were times it felt as though he would just repeat me forever.

While tucking Wilson into bed one night, I said “I love you” and he replied, “I love you, mommy.” Mommy. He added that all on his own. He wasn’t just repeating me anymore, he was beginning to express his own thoughts and responses.

That one single word fed my soul so much hope that night.  It seems so simple, but for him, it was a remarkable step.  I remember every single moment of that exchange, and it was nothing short of wonderful.

my son has autism, & he is wired wonderfully

Posted on by
4

812D391C-D6C9-426C-99AB-85E4F34C0BE6

“He’s just wired differently.”

We heard this phrase often in those first months after Wilson’s autism diagnosis.  We were trying to wrap our heads around this world of autism in which our son was living.  It’s a fairly simple phrase, which was almost refreshing given the complexities of this disorder we wanted so badly to understand. We’ve since learned that for us, autism is in the moment. It’s unpredictable.  Some days it is two steps forward, and one step back. It’s phases you cannot wait to get out of, and moments you want to freeze in time.  It’s taking the long way. Routine and Repetition. Pure innocence. Unconditional love and loyalty. It’s falling down and getting back up.

Wilson is a typical boy who loves being tickled and chased. He’s into anything that involves jumping, bouncing and spinning. The faster the better. He loves music, building, blowing out birthday candles (it doesn’t matter whose birthday it is), and dressing like his daddy.  He loves anything and everything to do with pirates, trains and keys.

What makes him so different? This is where the wonderful comes in…

He is absolutely enamored with his shadow and reflection. Sometimes his mind and senses are so overloaded that he quite simply needs to be wrapped up tightly in a hug.

He says, “You’re welcome!” whenever someone on the television says “thank you.”

Scripting (reciting lines from movies, books, songs etc.) was Wilson’s first major vehicle for speaking. He could recite scenes from his favorite cartoon and sing songs before he could say “mama”.

Eventually, Wilson learned to use some of those phrases to communicate in his day-to-day life. When he wants you to read him a story, he’ll hand you a book and say “Once upon a time…” Every time he finishes in the bathroom he’ll say “Fantastic! All done!” with his arms in the air.

Much of his speech started as echolalia (repeating what he hears, verbatim.) When I would say, “bye, Wilson” he would reply, “bye, Wilson.” Echolalia is a common way for toddlers to learn and practice language, however, children with autism can have echolalia much further into childhood.  There were times it felt as though he would just repeat me forever.

While tucking Wilson into bed one night, I said “I love you” and he replied, “I love you, mommy.” Mommy. He added that all on his own. He wasn’t just repeating me anymore, he was beginning to express his own thoughts and responses.

That one single word fed my soul so much hope that night.  It seems so simple, but for him, it was a remarkable step.  I remember every single moment of that exchange, and it was nothing short of wonderful.