Your fourth year was nothing like your sister's fourth years were. Nothing at all.
I had no idea last year when you blew out your candles that we were beginning a very long and hard road. I had no idea that what I thought were mere behavioral issues would be something far more serious.
I spent the better part of the first few months of your fourth year trying to decide what I was doing wrong. I had parented your sisters in exactly the same way I was parenting you but with completely different results. And it had to be the way in which I was parenting you because I refused to believe that you were just a bad child.
There were tantrums that far exceeded anything I had ever witnessed; violence and screaming and complete withdrawal into yourself.
Something was wrong.
And by the time you began school, I started seeking out professional help because for the first time as a mother, I had no idea what to do. Every lifeline I had failed me. My family and friends, while they tried, were not bringing any solutions or explanations to the table and I was quite frankly at my wits end.
You see, darling girl, I believe that your children are a product of your parenting. I believe that, while you and your sisters have very different personalities that are each your own, your behavior is a direct result of my mothering. And your behavior baffled me.
So we went to see all those doctors. I think you and I saw more doctors and therapists and psychiatrists in a few months than I've seen in my entire life. And they all, independently of each other, said the same thing: You are a good girl.
I have a friend who lives in Austin who is in college to become a therapist (in fact, I call him The Therapist here). One night, he and I were on the phone and he was explaining to me the way that anti-depressants work. This was something I had never even considered and I found it completely enthralling. This discussion opened up completely new lines of thought for me. It was like seeing color for the first time after being in a black in white world.
I use that as an example of how unaware of Asperger's and Autism I was prior to your diagnosis. I knew that there were kids out there who were Autistic, but I didn't know what it meant or how it worked. I didn't know the signs or the symptoms which is why it took me so long to see them in you.
I always thought that your little idiosyncrasies were just part of your personality and while they were different, I didn't make anything out of them. "Different" was just who you were. The way that you had to have everything in a certain spot just meant that you were meticulous. The way we had to things in specific orders just meant you were organized. I would joke that you were OCD but had no idea that you really were. Your adversity to heat of any kind, right down to your bath water being more than luke warm - I just thought it was a personality quirk not Sensory Sensitivity.
When the doctors started using the word "Autism" I was thrown. You were not what I associated with Autism. Those kids didn't talk or make eye contact or play with other kids or really even live in the same world as everyone else.
I dug into anything and everything about Asperger's that I could find. Any experiences by other mothers, any articles written, sheets of symptoms - you name it. And whether I wanted to believe it or not didn't matter, there was no denying that all of those little things you did actually added up to something.
All of these signs. All of these independent flickers that, when put together, became a bright flashing light.
I bet that there are stages you are supposed to go through when you get news like this... those stages usually begin with denial and usually end with acceptance. I didn't have those stages. My first stage was disbelief and my last stage was happiness. There's nothing wrong with my daughter. She is just different.
Does that sound bad? That I was afraid of there being something wrong with you? Maybe it does. I can't imagine the strength other parents need to be able to raise kids that are completely Autistic or that are suffering from something different that I don't even know about. My heart goes out to those parents because this has been hard and I know it could have been so much more.
My lesson for your fourth year has been in patience. I move fast, I keep our schedules jam packed and we adhere to them. We squeeze every second that we can out of a day. Your sisters are used to this, I am used to this but you were having a really bad time trying to do all of the running around that we do. The anxiety and stress of constantly being out and running around were triggers for you and so this year we have really had to slow things down. You needed more time.
We started getting up an hour and half earlier every morning so that you could have enough time to be ready to leave in the mornings. We started getting ready to leave the house sooner so that you would have time to put things where you wanted them and not forget anything. We took more time for everything. We slowed down and let you catch up.
You think about things differently, you look at them differently and you take different things away from situations than we do. I've learned so much this year about how your little brain is wired. It would take days for me to list all of your accomplishments this year, all of the things you've overcome. But I am pretty sure that my favorite thing is that you now come up to me and kiss me and tell me you love me. And you do it sincerely, not because it is a routine.
You are the coolest little chic. I love hearing your stories or strategies or ideas because they are so different than any I've ever heard before. When someone asks me how all of this will affect you when you are an adult, I believe - wholeheartedly - that you are going to do awesome things. The definition of Asperger's may be "a highly functioning form of autism" but I think the definition of your Asperger's is "a completely new and different outlook on the world".
Happy birthday Trin!
Love,
Mommy
Labels: Asperger's, Being Mommy, birthday, Triniti
