“Say something, I’m giving up on you. I’ll be the one if you want me to. Anywhere, I would have followed you. Say something, I’m giving up on you. And I, am feeling so small. It was over my head. I KNOW NOTHING AT ALL.”
Know this song with the heartbreaking lyrics? I know- it can be about so many things and I am sure none of which are autism. But, when I hear that song, it brings me back to watching my son rocking in a corner, unaware of who I was. Or what a ball was called. He was 2 and didn’t know his name. I was terrified he would never know my name or call me mommy.
I would sit there with his therapists and do my best not to cry during the 3 hour sessions where I didn’t see one ounce of progress. He was still rocking in a corner, not knowing who he was or what a ball was. And I was still terrified I would never hear “mommy” or “I love you”. “Say something, I’m giving up on you.” As mothers (especially special ed moms), we know we would never give up. I could be on my death bed and I would still fight to my last breath for this kid. I couldn’t love anyone more than I love him. But it’s frustrating. And that is ok. I wish someone had told me that. The guilt I felt at the time was tremendous.
“I’m feeling so small. It was over my head. I know nothing at all.” Yes, that pretty much sums it up.” Exactly.
I always wanted to be able to fast forward through time. I know moms want to slow things down, let their kids stay little for as long as possible. Not me. I would have paid money to fast forward 10 years to see what he would be like. Because the not knowing what is going to happen can literally almost kill you. It is a crushing weight that you carry around- every single day. No one can tell you for sure what will happen. Moms reading this with little ones rocking in the corner- I can’t tell you they won’t be doing that in 5 years. I can only say (from extensive experience) that with the right help, early intervention, it can get better. Different but better.
Our son is verbal and fully functioning. He can shower himself, feed himself, and is way smarter than me. Behaviorally, he can turn on you in a dime. But at the sweet moments (and there are a lot of them lately), he will press his head against mine, his soft face cheek-to-cheek and tell me he loves me more than anyone in the world. He is still soft spoken, but when he speaks, I listen. He has so much to say and I treasure every time I hear his voice.
Any other moms with kids rocking in the corner? Please know you are not alone. I have been there- and I survived.