Another godfuckingdamn label.
Aspergers Syndrome.
I got the form today.
Johnny is my christening godmothers youngest son.
As a child I remember how different he was and the nervousness I felt when around him which didn't dissipate even as a young adult when he came to my wedding.
He stared blankly, with a look I now recognise, into the camera when the traditional family pictures after the service were taken.
Recently, his older brother proudly told me of his enormous talent for reading and memorising maps.
Johnny, now in his early thirties, was a walking GPS unit when they recently were in London having memorised the entire train network and most of the area they were in whilst they were visiting their sister working over there.
None of his family probably knew what it was he had back then or if they did I don't believe they understood it.
Certainly there was no name they gave to us.
We just knew he was different.
The uncomfortable feeling he gave me is most certainly the feeling others have around my youngest son Mark.
Not that I blame them for that.
Pot. Kettle. Black.
And shit, I would have given anything, anything to "cure" him.
To save him.
To undo whatever it was that I had done to make him this way.
To rid the guilt.
The realisation of how futile, desperate and pathetic those actions were came like a blow to the head.
In all that time when I couldn't accept his diagnosis of autism I never stopped to think I wasn't accepting him.
My son.
The person.
The human being.
And so it must be with Matthew as well.
He may be.
He may not be.
Sign the form, take him to the shrink.
Find out.
Perhaps.
Tonight after dinner I just limped towards the bed then curled tightly into a ball, sheets over me, the door shut so he wouldn't see me.
Mentally rooted.
Bereft of rational or calm thought.
Tomorrow I may throw myself at it, embrace it, accept it, love it.
Or maybe next week, or next month.
Not today.
Just not today.
A week and half ago on his birthday I was driving him to school.
La Roux on Triple J was singing about how she would be bulletproof (this time).
He said to me from the back seat "Mum, I'm twelve now and I've got my whole life ahead of me".
Our eyes met in the mirror and crinkled at the corners.
"Yeah, you do" I told him.
You do Matthew, you do.
The Last Days of the Oakland A's
2 months ago
4 comments:
My husband has a cousin whose two boys have Aspergers. Clever, difficult, interesting, disturbing, funny and high maint they are. My son is not bothered by their strange ways (we see them each Christmas). He says they are fine and that they love computers.
Their mother feels as though she did something wrong. I know it is not easy for her. She found out the first boy had Aspergers when she was pregnant with the second one. The doctor said that it would be unlikely that the second would be the same.....but he was and even more so.
It is confronting for anyone.
My pediatrician told me he had yet to meet a mother who didn't feel guilty.
A specialist who saw Mark told me I shouldn't have any more kids because of the high probability of it being passed down again.
Fuck you I thought.
I'll decide how many kids I'll have, not you.
It's still a big fuck you.
I'll deal with what I have, not what I want.
I did say I didn't want a dull life anyway...
Hi Anna,
You carry a tremendous weight my sister. The are a couple of other bloggers who share their life and that of their Autistic child. They navigate an endless bevy of emotions; some good, others not.
I was reading one today about how kids pick on her daughter at school. I'm saddened but I can never know her pain or that of her daughter.
There are no words when we are confronted. Still, I will wish you and your family well.
I'm with you, fuck a dull life.
U
The pain of your kids being targetted by others is a pain that is always raw.
Thank you for reading and your kind words.
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