Français
This post is sponsored by Beddy’s, all opinions expressed are my own Last year, Jude was evaluated for autism. He showed some red flags but also a lot of encouraging signs.…
Browsing Tag
enfants
-
-
Since I became a mom, I’ve become more involved on social media. It’s not always easy to meet people in real life so Facebook seemed like a great solution to share…
![[Snippet from my book about autism and grieving/Link in bio]
When Charlie needs something and I’m unable to understand what it is, it’s the most powerless feeling. I usually spend a few minutes showing him various objects and food items around the house in hopes that he’ll want one of them. When I’m wrong—and that happens often—he gets frustrated.
Cereal? Pushes it away.
Juice? Pushes it away.
Toast? Pushes it away.
You can feel the intensity of our growing frustration as I fail to comprehend what he wants to eat. He gets infinitely more impatient with each wrong guess. The restlessness, the grunts, and then the quiet whines. Believe me, Charlie. I’m trying as hard as I can to get you what you want, but I can’t because I don’t know what it is. Eventually, we’ve exhausted all our options, and this is usually the moment when tears slowly start rolling down his face, and he resorts to screaming. I feel sad and frustrated too. Powerless too. Once we’ve reached that point, there’s nothing else I can do. I’ve failed, and now we just have to wait. I wait until I hear the silence. Not the kind of silence you want to hear. It’s a silence full of tension. A silence that means that Charlie has given up because that’s the only thing he can do. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t communicate and he can’t make himself heard. The only thing he can do now is surrender.
Still, I love Charlie. All of him. I’m not grieving him. I’m grieving my dreams of him. I’m grieving the dreams of Charlie as a seven-year-old, sitting next to me outside, at sunset, debating which Pokémon is a better starter option in Pokémon Blue. I’m grieving my youth, the naiveté that led me to believe that all moms get to hear their child call them mommy in a purposeful way, the innocence that tricked me into believing that all children love and cling to their parents. I’m grieving the dream of speaking French with Charlie, and secretly laughing at the first putain he pronounces. I’m not grieving you, Charlie. I’m grieving my dreams. �](http://scontent-frx5-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/81ce3693a5b84c0012548cd34503b66b/5D1AECC1/t51.2885-15/e35/c22.0.1035.1035a/s320x320/52762732_282700752662877_556964404511934262_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-frx5-1.cdninstagram.com "[Snippet from my book about autism and grieving/Link in bio]
When Charlie needs something and I’m unable to understand what it is, it’s the most powerless feeling. I usually spend a few minutes showing him various objects and food items around the house in hopes that he’ll want one of them. When I’m wrong—and that happens often—he gets frustrated.
Cereal? Pushes it away.
Juice? Pushes it away.
Toast? Pushes it away.
You can feel the intensity of our growing frustration as I fail to comprehend what he wants to eat. He gets infinitely more impatient with each wrong guess. The restlessness, the grunts, and then the quiet whines. Believe me, Charlie. I’m trying as hard as I can to get you what you want, but I can’t because I don’t know what it is. Eventually, we’ve exhausted all our options, and this is usually the moment when tears slowly start rolling down his face, and he resorts to screaming. I feel sad and frustrated too. Powerless too. Once we’ve reached that point, there’s nothing else I can do. I’ve failed, and now we just have to wait. I wait until I hear the silence. Not the kind of silence you want to hear. It’s a silence full of tension. A silence that means that Charlie has given up because that’s the only thing he can do. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t communicate and he can’t make himself heard. The only thing he can do now is surrender.
Still, I love Charlie. All of him. I’m not grieving him. I’m grieving my dreams of him. I’m grieving the dreams of Charlie as a seven-year-old, sitting next to me outside, at sunset, debating which Pokémon is a better starter option in Pokémon Blue. I’m grieving my youth, the naiveté that led me to believe that all moms get to hear their child call them mommy in a purposeful way, the innocence that tricked me into believing that all children love and cling to their parents. I’m grieving the dream of speaking French with Charlie, and secretly laughing at the first putain he pronounces. I’m not grieving you, Charlie. I’m grieving my dreams. �")
![When I found out I was pregnant with Jude, I was excited. They’d both have a brother they could count on. During my pregnancy, I spent a lot of time fantasizing about what the future would be like with my two boys. I kept thinking about the moment when Charlie would meet Jude. I thought he’d fall in love with his brother instantly, giving him a sweet little kiss on the forehead as soon as he’d see him at the hospital. I imagined Charlie protecting Jude and teaching him how to build big towers. I pictured him watching over Jude because that’s what big brothers do. There was no doubt in my mind that Charlie was going to be the perennial winner of the “Best Big Brother” award.
At the hospital, I was excited for Charlie to meet Jude but he didn’t even look at his little brother. It was as if Jude was completely invisible. Charlie’s eyes weren’t even looking in his direction. Eventually, after a few days at home, Charlie noticed him. Jude’s cries were hard to ignore. Charlie would scream, and cover his ears in response to Jude making any sort of noise at all. A few times, Charlie even slapped his brother in the face. My heart was broken.
Though the first couple years were difficult, they have such a special relationship now. Witnessing moments like this one reminds me of how far they’ve come. ❤️
[My book, All Across The Spectrum, is available for pre-order - Link in Bio]](http://scontent-frx5-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/5ceb073affbb53b1b9fa748233ea0a51/5D1AD684/t51.2885-15/e35/c114.0.851.851/s320x320/53845884_414216469327016_3608747456633126043_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-frx5-1.cdninstagram.com "When I found out I was pregnant with Jude, I was excited. They’d both have a brother they could count on. During my pregnancy, I spent a lot of time fantasizing about what the future would be like with my two boys. I kept thinking about the moment when Charlie would meet Jude. I thought he’d fall in love with his brother instantly, giving him a sweet little kiss on the forehead as soon as he’d see him at the hospital. I imagined Charlie protecting Jude and teaching him how to build big towers. I pictured him watching over Jude because that’s what big brothers do. There was no doubt in my mind that Charlie was going to be the perennial winner of the “Best Big Brother” award.
At the hospital, I was excited for Charlie to meet Jude but he didn’t even look at his little brother. It was as if Jude was completely invisible. Charlie’s eyes weren’t even looking in his direction. Eventually, after a few days at home, Charlie noticed him. Jude’s cries were hard to ignore. Charlie would scream, and cover his ears in response to Jude making any sort of noise at all. A few times, Charlie even slapped his brother in the face. My heart was broken.
Though the first couple years were difficult, they have such a special relationship now. Witnessing moments like this one reminds me of how far they’ve come. ❤️
[My book, All Across The Spectrum, is available for pre-order - Link in Bio]")
