Our Christmas

This year is Bug's fourth Christmas. Many other kids his age are excited about Santa Claus and all of the other fun stuff surrounding the season. Bug, frankly, doesn't care at all about any of that. I think a year or more ago, I might have been sad at the thought of Bug being like that, thinking that he would be missing out. But, I've found that he's  not missing out on anything - in fact, he's making our holidays better.

Bug understands things better when they are simple and concrete. So, we've simplified our holidays, which allows us all to focus on the most important aspects of Christmas: celebrating Jesus Christ's birth and life, spending time with family, and doing good things for others.

We've also been reflecting on the past year or so and how blessed we've been. As we have used our challenges and trials as opportunities to pray and try to be spiritually stronger, we have been blessed with a greater testimony of and closer relationship with our Savior. Yes, God sent His son because He loved the world, but He did it also because He loves me, and Bug, and each of us individually and unconditionally. Christ's example and atonement can strengthen us when we have sinned, when we are strong, when we have been hurt, when we feel downtrodden, and when we are living our daily lives. We've learned that better this year than any other time before.

This Christmas, simplify. Focus on the truly important parts of the holiday and don't worry about "missing out" on any of those extra things that, in the end, aren't the best part of the season. Enjoy your family. Be a little kinder. And, if you'd like to learn more about the first gift of Christmas and how you can be strengthened by Christ's life, view He Is The Gift.

Patience at Target

We had a great weekend. We went out, had fun, ate ice cream, made it through a good portion of church, and spent time with family. It tends to be easier to be patient and see the good in little things when the kids are happy and the day is going smoothly. Lately, my patience hasn't quite been where it should be, so I learned a lot and saw a lot of good this weekend.

The past few weeks, Bug has had a new thing to be particular about: going in and out of doors. At church, for example, he always goes in the far right door, then out the same one (so far left as we're leaving). He has decided he always wants to go in and out the same doors (the green "IN" doors) at places like Target, too. Usually, that's not a problem, but it's Christmastime and stores are much more busy and crowded than when we typically go out.

We've been working on this door thing, and the day was going so well, I was surprised when Bug stopped about 10 feet from the "OUT" door and silently started showing signs of agitation. He wanted to go out the "IN" doors - because green means go - but there were carts blocking the space between the two sets of doors and lots of customers. I tried talking him through it: "We go in the green and out the red!", "Look, all the people leaving are going through the red doors!", so on and so on. He wasn't having it. Dad tried some different logic, too. Still nothing. Still staying firmly in place, pointing at the green doors and wanting to leave against the flow of foot traffic.

It would have been easy to just pick him up and go to the car (something I've done before, with chaotic results), but we didn't want a meltdown and we weren't in any hurry. I started thinking about how Bug loves letters and is starting to recognize words, so I thought I'd try that - I felt it was a long shot, but couldn't hurt. And, wonderfully, that ("O-U-T spells 'out' and we need to go out!") got him to go, no problem.

Getting Bug through a door may seem like such a small thing, but it was a great lesson for me. First, as a parent (especially one to a child with special needs), you have to think creatively. What I thought would make sense to him, didn't. I had to try to see things from his perspective a little better and guess what track his brain was on. More importantly, for everyone to be happy and content, we had to do the hard thing. Standing in the exit of Target and trying to reason with a preschooler really isn't too hard in the grand scheme of things, but it's an experience that I need to remember. Instead of letting impatience and my feelings get in the way of things, we were patient and took the time to work through things with Bug instead of trying to change his thought process. We took the more difficult route, but the return was well worth the effort.

Mini-Series Week 4

For the month of November, I am going to try at least once a week to relate to you something about autism that I am thankful for.

For my final mini-series entry, I am thankful that autism has brought us gratitude. It's partly due to a shift in priorities, but it's due largely to newly found humility. Autism has laid bare our strengths, our weaknesses, our fears, and our hopes. Seeing life in that new light has compelled us to gratitude more than ever. Some days it's hard to be truly grateful, but overall, I am more grateful for all of my blessings, in even the smallest details of my life. As a family, we appreciate each other more, we enjoy the little moments more, we see better how blessed we are in our circumstances, and we have come to a richer understanding of God's hand in our lives. My heart has truly been softened and changed to be more grateful, even in the most turbulent times.

Mini-Series Week 3

image LDS.org

For the month of November, I am going to try at least once a week to relate to you something about autism that I am thankful for.

Last week was a bit of a crazy one, so I'll be sure to add one more entry for this series on Sunday.

Today I am grateful that autism has taught me about love. Through autism, my love for myself, my family, and even total strangers has been tested and eventually strengthened. I've seen what unconditional love can do for me and others around me: from giving me strength I thought was beyond my reach, to softening hearts and opening minds. Bug has taught me what unconditional love looks like, because that's the love he gives each of us. I also feel that I have a deeper, though still incomplete, understanding of what God feels for me. Everything I feel for Bug, all I see in him and hope for him, is a small sample of what God feels for each and every one of us. That is a priceless lesson that I will always be grateful for.

Mini-Series Week 2

For the month of November, I am going to try at least once a week to relate to you something about autism that I am thankful for.

This week, I am grateful that autism has taught me about priorities. Parenting is always a game of "pick your battles", but I feel like that's amplified with autism. Do I really care if Bug is dressed nicely for church with a white shirt and khakis, or is it more important that he happily puts on jeans and a t-shirt and actually goes to church? Would I rather have a clean kitchen, or let Bug splash water all over because he needs the sensory input?

My change of attitude about priorities has extended beyond the minor things like outfits and cleanliness, though. I've learned the value of connecting with my kids over connecting to anything else; the value of celebrating every single success and step in the right direction, no matter how small. I don't have lofty goals or dreams for my kids - instead I just want them to be happy and find what brings them joy, not me. In short, autism has showed me what truly matters in the long-run.

November Mini-Series

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I've been trying to be more grateful lately, and just more positive overall. I'm struggling a little with applying that to autism. I'll be completely honest: sometimes I hate autism. It's hard to see Bug be limited by something totally out of our control. I tend to see autism as a vehicle for opportunities to learn and grow, but have difficulty being thankful that autism itself is a part of our lives. That's a narrow differentiation, but I get stuck on it anyway. 

So, for the month of November, I am going to try at least once a week to relate to you something about autism that I am thankful for. 

Today, I want to start with compassion. Because autism is a "hidden" disability, or something you can't tell someone has just by looking at them, I've learned not to make quick judgments about people. To anyone we pass while we're out and about, Bug physically looks like an average preschooler. Strangers don't know about his sensory issues and his feeding difficulties, or his astounding memorization skills. Just like they can't understand Bug and all his weaknesses and strengths by looking at him, I can't understand everything about a person by one, or even several, meetings. That's why I am trying now more than ever to try and be compassionate and understanding to others around me. Like the saying goes, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle" (to which I'd like to add something about how everyone has super powers to help in their battles too). It's something I've always known on principle, but autism has taught me to truly understand and live it.

One Year

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One year ago today, Bug was officially diagnosed with autism.

We weren't surprised. I remember clearly a Sunday months earlier when, instead of participating in church services, we were watching Bug walk laps around the church gym. We were reviewing the few words he had in his vocabulary in preparation to see his pediatrician and talk about the (little) progress he'd made in his development. It was then we both realized that separately, we thought that he might be on the autism spectrum. But that didn't make the day of diagnosis any easier.

I think I didn't anticipate how hard that day would be. I expected I would cry, but I didn't expect to hardly be able to talk about it out loud for a few days. Though we were somewhat prepared for what was coming, you can't ever prepare for the emotions that follow an official, life-changing diagnosis. We resolved to do whatever it took to make sure Bug got the best care we could provide. We spent weeks looking for houses and jobs in states with mandated insurance coverage for autism treatment. We researched everything we could about autism and potential treatments and potential challenges. All of the unknowns threatened to become overwhelming. In one day, our lives turned upside-down.

The first thing I learned after diagnosis was about love. No matter who I chose to share the news with, I just felt love from everyone. There was no judgement, no disbelief, no tension. I remember clearly everyone we told said some variation of, "We love Bug and all of you. We want to support you and help however we can." If you were one of these people, thank you. Everyone's support meant (means) the world to us.

We also quickly learned that although the diagnosis was difficult, it was absolutely worth it. Fear and stigma can surround any diagnosis, especially an "invisible" or psychological one. Believe me, we were plenty fearful about what life would be like for Bug with a diagnosis forever being attached to him. That diagnosis, and sharing it, has been nothing but helpful. We have been guaranteed help and protections under the law. Caregivers have an idea of what to expect and what treatment may work, all because of the diagnosis. 

As silly as it may sound, a diagnosis has been like a call number for a library book. Remember the Dewey Decimal System? The first three numbers always indicate a broad topic. Like language or history or philosophy. Within that topic, the books vary between more specific subject matter, length, and reading level, but they are all related. Bug's call number starts with "autism", and although that doesn't tell you everything about him, it helps give a general understanding of what to expect with him.

We still face plenty of challenges and unknowns. But I can't help thinking about the difference a year has made. Bug tells us about what's going on around him, he shows interest in his peers, his diet has improved dramatically, and we can do things as a family we never imagined we'd be able to do again - everything from going to specific stores and eating out at a restaurant to trying completely new experiences. Discouragement is no stranger, but looking at the bigger picture and every little bit of progress gives us renewed hope. The past year has been a rollercoaster, but rollercoasters are still fun, aren't they?