Mommy Needs A Minute

From my experience, there has been a stigma surrounding those born with cognitive disabilities. The assumption is made that they are incapable of conforming to society, and their “special condition” makes it impossible for them to maintain a steady job, making them burdens on their families for the rest of their lives. While I could go into all of the reasons why this logic is so terribly flawed, I don’t want to contribute more to the ideal that those who are neurodivergent should embrace a future of conformity. Rather, I would like to give insight into some of the positive aspects that I have experienced having a autistic child and turn those into the steppingstones toward a future of acceptance. Here are Three Blessings of Parenting an AutisticChild:

1. It forced me to take the initiative in learning about his condition, and to maximize the amount of quality time that I spent with him.

When Peanut was about two years old, the first thing that visiting family members would notice is his “abnormal” behaviors. “Why won’t he hug me?” They would ask. “Why won’t you talk to me? What’s wrong? Why do you cover your ears when other people speak?” At the time, the truth was I didn’t know. I thought my son was reserved with strangers and, honestly being Filipino, sometimes family get togethers are so loud I wish I could cover my ears too. I began to realize that in unfamiliar situations, Peanut didn’t care to be held or loved on by other people and he needed a quiet space to feel safe.

As he developed other “triggers”, I also came to be curious about them, too. Since he struggled a lot to verbally communicate with me, it was my job as the parent to learn how to empathize with him. So, because I wanted to learn more about him, I took the time and I studied: but not just books written by trained psychologists. I studied my child. I studied his reactions to me and my reactions to him. I took a long hard look at myself as a mother and adjusted even the tiniest things: the tone of my voice, my movements, the amount of time I spent working on household tasks and the amount of time I spent with him, and observed him around others as well. By doing this, I learned.

At home when things got frustrating, I learned that speech came more easily if I quietly and patiently encouraged him to try to tell me his feelings slowly, even if to say only one word. I learned that on the days that I actively played with him and spent quality time with him for more than four hours, he felt more secure than on the days that I did less. I learned that letting him help me cook is one of the ways to help him stimulate using touch, letting him feel the ingredients, the coolness of the counter or the grain of the wood on the chopping board. I learned that being exposed to loud noises makes him feel overstimulated, and even one night he felt comfortable enough to tell me that to him, being overstimulated feels a lot like being scared. “Scary, Mommy. Like thunder,” he said. And finally, finally I could understand and empathize with what he’s going through.

2. Learning how to communicate with him – and each other – more effectively, and learning how to cope together in tense situations.

So I had studied how to empathize with my son, but now came the difficult part: communication. But how do you communicate with someone whom you can’t talk with? While at our home we try to positively encourage our son to verbalize his feelings and are in the process of teaching him American Sign Language, he doesn’t necessarily use those to verbalize his big feelings. Most of that is, in fact, done with non-verbal communication and careful observation.

Naturally, he expresses joy with smiling and excitement by shaking his arms and acting giddy. But what about fear and anger? Well, as stated above, his response to fear is incredibly similar to his response to being overstimulated. In the beginning stages, he paces around the room to see if he can calm himself down. Sometimes he runs around the kitchen island or dining table. Then, he looks for one of his safe people, either Hubby or me, and seeks us for comfort. As a baby, I used to sing to him to soothe him and he has become accustomed to using the sound of my voice or of calming music to make him feel secure. At times, however, when the event occurs suddenly and without warning, he screams. This often happens during thunderstorms or on the freeway when the “sound of the road” changes (You will understand if you’ve ever driven the 215 beltway in Las Vegas).

Anger was a tough one, not just for Peanut, but for our family. For the first three years of our marriage, my husband and I had to learn to cope with the trauma of the pregnancy and the stress of having a child with special needs before we ever even understood ourselves as husband and wife, and we had to learn about ourselves as parents in very trying circumstances. Without our son’s ability to speak it is sometimes difficult for us to read what is upsetting or overstimulating him before he lashes out. This would often take place if my husband and I were both too preoccupied to focus all of our attention on his non-verbal cues, especially if we were discussing important family matters or having disagreements between us. Peanut would suddenly begin crying, screaming, and hitting or kicking us or himself, but this behavior never came out of nowhere and was never intentionally malicious, even if it doesn’t take much to cause.

It was a hard lesson to learn, but my husband and I tried very hard to implement a standard operating procedure of handling his upsets – and ours – by making a solid effort to genuinely empathize with each other and delicately and gently use quiet tones in times that seemed to be high stress. We would do this by stopping, taking three deep breaths to reset ourselves emotionally, then redirecting our child by changing scenery or turning off the lights. At bedtime when he would refuse to go to bed, we would validate his feelings by recognizing that he was upset, but also that his body was so very tired. We would then offer a compromise, such as,” The computer has gone to sleep for the night, but if you still want music, which lullaby would you like me to sing?” In events when he would become overstimulated and act violently towards us or himself, we would also add on an opportunity to address and correct his behavior: “When you hit, it makes me very sad and hurts my feelings. I only want to keep you safe. Can you think of a way that you can tell us next time that you are upset without being violent?” We have found that this impacted not just our marriage, but our son. Meltdowns don’t seem to last as long, especially those that often include self-injurious behavior, and the arguments between husband and wife seem to be less.

3. Empowering ourselves in our decision-making not just with our son, but with family.

In the worst moments, when our son is screaming relentlessly and beating himself over the head, it is easy to want to give in and be more permissive. But what if that means being too permissive and giving him something that could be harmful to him? Above, I mentioned a scenario in which it was Peanut’s bedtime and he was refusing to go to sleep. Now, staying awake for fifteen minutes past bedtime is not necessarily harmful. But with work and Peanut’s school, meal, and play schedule, letting him stay up too long can throw off his routine and cause more meltdowns the next day. We have always stressed the importance of maintaining a solid routine, and this has empowered us as parents in our decision-making. As a couple, my husband and I agreed that we could be flexible on a lot of things, but not the decisions that affected his health and his safety.

We also became more empowered in our decisions to our extended family as well. Hubby and I are both loyal and devoted to our families individually, especially our parents, but we had to support ourselves in the decisions we make regarding our child and his upbringing when our families wanted to involve themselves and give us their opinions. When we made the decision to homeschool our son, we received a lot of pushbacks. He will never learn how to socialize with other children, they would say, and then question whether or not we could provide him a good quality of education. When we made the decision to keep his outings to those in an environment that we could control to help imit overstimulation, we were told that he needed to be exposed to situations of all types, and that he needed to learn how to deal with people who were different from him. We have affirmed with our families that as his parents, it is our job to create a safe environment for him where he feels comfortable, and while others are welcome to their opinions, we do not have to entertain them.

There are no medals for parenting, but the rewards are timeless. As a parent, I want to break the tradition of “children should be seen and not heard.” I want my son to remember his parents as those that always tried to understand him, who made every effort to provide him safety and emotional security. He is teaching me to be a more emotionally mature, empathetic adult, and I can only hope that I am giving him the same.

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