Grace

Another series of thoughts came out of my radio show adventure. I've been reading a lot on the internet lately about autism from the perspective of autistic adults. Many of these autistic adults feel very much that their rights are often ignored or dismissed, and some have horror stories of growing up in institutions being restrained and drugged. It has made me think hard about my daughter, and how I want her to always feel loved and respected, and happy. I think she is happy, and I know that she is loved, but I want her to feel loved and respected. I have also read a little about adult autistics who feel that their parents did things the right way, and I'm trying to apply those ideas to raising my daughter. A key element in these success stories is the acceptance of the child as autistic--not trying to "cure" or hide the autism with behavioral boot camp.

After Saturday's radio show, I was buttonholed by someone I know as an acquaintance. She said, "You have a child, don't you?" I responded in the affirmative, and mentioned her age and that she's autistic. She said, with her head dropped to the side, something like, "Oh, I'm so sorry, how tragic. My relative has an autistic child..blah blah blah.. wears you down blah..."

I felt somehow repelled by her response, and thinking about it later, I realized that I don't think of my daughter's autism as tragic. I used to feel like Job, back when her feeding problems became life-threatening, and I had a difficult time dealing with the initial diagnosis of autism a year or so ago. Back then, I might have agreed with her that it was a tragedy. But I don't now. Now I'm proud of my daughter, and hope that she'll be able to reach her potential.

I was surprised to discover this acceptance in myself, and realized that with the acceptance has come a sense of peace that has eluded me for a long time. This doesn't mean I escape frustration dealing with the everyday and long term challenges of raising an autistic person, but it does mean I wouldn't trade it for a"normal" child.