Acceptance

CJ was 3 with the IQ of an 18 month old. He was severely autistic and developmentally delayed in all areas: Cognitive, Social, Fine Motor, Gross Motor, Speech and Learning. He could grow up and live a fairly normal life or he may be totally dependent for the rest of his life. He may never talk. He may never learn to button his shirt.The child psychologist sitting across the table was telling me these things as my mom sat next to me rebuking the things the psychologist said in the name of Jesus. I didn't realize my face was covered in tears until one of the therapists in the room handed me a tissue. I sat there with CJ in my lap, trying to digest the words they were throwing at me, but not really understanding most of it. Occupational therapy...hyper and hypo sensitivity...speech therapy...no cause...Marcus Autism Center...IEP...sensory belt...support group...no cure. Every time they explained a reason why he fell on the Autism spectrum, my mom would say something like "That's a lie. I rebuke it in the name of Jesus." She was right! I didn't know what these ladies were talking about. That was not my baby they were talking about. 

That nagging feeling again... Deep down inside, past all the pain and denial, it was there. Acceptance. I just had to dig deep to get to it. I looked down at my son twisting a pipe cleaner and kissed him on the forehead. The meeting was over. They handed me brochure upon brochure, booklet upon booklet, books, websites and so much "take-home" information that we needed a bag to carry it all. Finding acceptance wasn't going to be that easy.

I spent most of the first few weeks crying, and people didn't understand why. "He's still the same CJ" they would say. "This doesn't change him." But I had to mourn in my own way. I had to mourn the future I had dreamed of for him because I knew that from this point on, our lives would no longer be the same. I had to mourn the word "regular" so I could accept and embrace this new word and world of "Autism."

April was Autism Awareness Month and CNN ran a week long special on Autism. All week I watched story after story about success stories of autistic kids. I heard parents tell their story of how hard the beginning was for them. I watched a special about an autistic boy who found his passion in basketball and used that passion to break barriers. Google became my best friend. After the kids had gone to bed, I would spend hours researching our new world, and watching youtube videos of autistic kids. The Autism Speaks website became my best friend. I registered for the annual walk for autism and sighed. If we were going to do this, we were going to do it the right way. I was not going to be one of those parents who sat back and let life happen to their kids. My kids were going to embrace their lives. 

Acceptance came Saturday, April 12, 2008, the day of the Georgia Walk for Autism at Atlantic station. As soon as we walked out of the parking garage and into the resource fair, tears started pouring from my eyes. I could see a little bit of CJ in a lot of these kids. Kids flapping, screaming, laughing hysterically, rocking, staring. You couldn't help but feel the love and acceptance in the air. Everyone here knew what I was going through on the inside. They didn't look at my son funny when he started jumping. Instead, they blew bubbles for him to hear his addictive laugh. There were families there supporting each other, sporting identical shirts of support. There were resource tents from companies that were dedicated to help families through their journey. My best friend was with me. We walked around taking it all in. I felt something changing in me when I heard a speech from an older kid who was autistic. This was a different world alright, but it wasn't that bad.

Someone walked by me and I read her t-shirt. It said "Autism Rocks! (And flips and flaps and squeaks and squeals and licks)." I smiled... I mean really smiled for the first time in months. We were home.