He's Not Stupid Damnit....

Forgive me for not updating this in a while; life has gotten hectic around the Jones house. The baby is walking, the older two are in school, all the activities, doctor’s appointments, etc - life has become crazy. This isn't my normal ranting kinda blog (well, not much), but one that's more about my oldest son, Grayson.

Some of ya'll have had the pleasure of meeting my oldest, quirky six-year-old son. He's tall and horribly skinny. He looks exactly like his father with my coloring and he's autistic. There I wrote it: My son is autistic. Before my youngest was born last October, I made it a mission to get Gray tested for autism because so many told me he just had a speech delay, ADHD, and simply didn't fall on the spectrum when he was tested through the school. I told them they were wrong (a mother knows). So we had him tested and it came back that he did have a mild form of autism. He was five when we got the diagnosis and even though I suspected it, it was still devastating. But I had no time to wallow in self pity - my son needed me, I had a newborn who needed me and my daughter just decided to keep driving me insane. Jimmy was angry at those who previously tested him and honestly the whole world it seemed - who wants their child to be anything but what one considers "normal"?

So I immediately had Grayson put in private speech classes and private occupational therapy classes, informed his school of the diagnosis and told family and friends the news. And while it was just a label, you cannot imagine how differently my son was treated. His impulsive behavior was no longer Grayson being bad but now he “couldn’t help himself.” People talked slower to my son like he was stupid – which is far from the case with most autistic children. Or – my favorite – when he did really simple things that most kids his age should really know how to do (ie. put a ball in a hoop), people would cheer him like he solved world peace. It was humbling, irritating and sometimes comical. I will never forget the one lady at his school who told me that “Bless your heart. God doesn’t give you what you can’t handle.” I was rather bitchy that day and replied, “Not true. That’s why God invented suicide.” (Thanks Cathy!).  So no, I’m not the best at handling all of this.

And then I had so many people put me in touch with other’s who also had autistic children and I will never forget what this one wonderful woman wrote me (at the time I was so full of self pity that it didn’t sink in). She wrote, “It gets better – I promise.” And Maria was right, it does get better. I had a diagnosis, I had a plan of attack to help my boy and he is not the same child he was last year – he and I are both better.

But honestly, I know some of ya’ll have no idea that my son hates making eye contact, doesn’t generally prefer the company of his peers but would rather be around adults, hates any type of change to his very routine life and other quirky things – but does it really matter where he falls on the damn spectrum? And please don’t stop me in the grocery store and gush about how “great” my son is improving – he’s simply growing and learning like other kids do at his age, really it shouldn’t be a big deal. As I told Jimmy, autism is what Grayson has but it’s not who he is. Oh and I don’t care about your neighbor’s grandchild who lives in Oklahoma who is also autistic – if you don’t know what to say, it’s okay. Ask me what you want and I’ll try to educate you but otherwise I’m good.

My son is autistic and it’s going to be okay.