When you have a child diagnosed with autism, or I imagine other disorders as well, this weird thing happens.
Or, at least looking back now it felt weird to me.
Suddenly, everything they do not do, or may not do, is told to you.
I remember looking at my 3-year-old son after a doctor said he would never live independently, drive a car, get married, have kids, etc., and feeling every emotion in the book.
Anger at this doctor. Fear that he may be right. Determination to prove him wrong. Sadness. Grief. I could go on and on.
Then the evaluations and questionnaires started. Mom and Dad, you know them. Page after page with little circles to fill in.
Never. Almost never. Sometimes. Maybe. Always.
I remember skipping whole entire pages of those things because after 7 ‘nevers’ you can skip ahead.
Heartbreak on a page of white printer paper.
Everything he couldn’t do right there in front of me.
No hiding. No denying.
This even happens within school in the Special Education world.
You will inevitably sit across a table from someone who will tell you everything your child can’t do.
For one second, if you have neurotypical children, I want you to imagine going to a school conference and the teacher telling you everything that your child can't do.
It would never happen.
Anyhow, my point of all this is…You, me, we know what our children can’t do. We live it.
But what I didn’t know years ago when my son was diagnosed, was that there would be magic.
Yes, magic.
Innocence. Beauty. Simplicity. Vulnerability.
The best parts of a child that get to carry on forever.
Yesterday, we went to the Christmas tree store. That’s what we call it. We actually went for pumpkins, but Cooper had no time for that nonsense.
He was drawn to the trees. He sat, raised him arms to the sky, moved his hands in a dance, and smiled unbelievable joy.
The lights. The touch. The look. All of it.
This is the second year that he acknowledges Santa. And I can’t even tell you how excited I am to experience it with him.
It’s magic. And I get it longer than most.
There is more too.
He sees things in the clouds that I cannot.
He turns his ear into the wind and laughs at the sounds that I cannot hear.
He will look so deeply into a dog’s eyes that I know they are communicating.
He knows the good people. And the bad. He can tell instantly.
He waves to strangers.
He gives the best hugs.
There is magic friends and I am here for it.
So, remember this, when you are being told all the cant’s and the wont’s and the nevers, please think of the magic.
And what a gift that is.
Click HERE to visit my Facebook page, Finding Cooper’s Voice and watch Cooper see the trees! And give me a follow while you are over there too!
Have a great day friends!
Amen to this. Another great read.
I love that he had no time for the pumpkin nonsense. Straight to Christmas! I'm with ya Cooper!
This is beautiful! There is always magic, if you're willing to look for it!