Tomorrow is Another Day

Many thanks to Drama Mama today for nailing on the head what I have been going through for the past five years. What would I do without my blogger friends?

I've said that there are bad days and there are good days and you just kind of ride the wave. But, I don't always ride the waves well or with grace. I usually have a few fear thoughts crop up like weeds when I'm particularly vulnerable, when I'm tired which is most of the time, or hormonal which is some of the time.

The thing is, I think about my son 24/7. His autism is always in the background. He has some very odd mannerisms that have popped up over the last week (in the middle of some "good" behaviors). Lots of visual stimming, unusual arm movements, and lately, God-awful ear sensitivity. He could not get off the bus on Friday because he refused to take his hands from his ears. He dove for me from the third step of the bus crying. I've never seen him like this.

I cannot count on a full night's sleep anymore because invariably somewhere in the middle of the night or morning, the screeching begins. Actually, it's more like a squawk. It happened this morning and I went to check on him and all he did was throw an arm around my neck, so I thought he was dreaming. It happened an hour later, so I staggered in there to see what was going on - same thing. Checked the pull-up to see if he was wet or something but he wasn't.

I have the thought that he is detoxifying. I took him to an herbalist and did some muscle testing and we saw a difference in him immediately when we changed the probiotic and added in some other things for his gut. But, I get a little tired of hearing phrases like "it's a healing episode," or that when they are getting better, they are "more autistic." Some days I want to say, oh pleeezz shut up. And, maybe they're right, but I don't know. How do I know if it's a healing episode or he's sliding deeper into autism?

Around 7:30 AM, he is wide awake dragging his two pillows into bed with me. I finally just got up and slugged down some coffee and watched Sunday Morning. I realized it was awfully quiet in his room and he had fallen asleep again and did not get up until 12:30 PM. I scurried back to bed to get some shut-eye, but all I got was a bunch of random thoughts that tumbled through space. Weird stuff from my childhood.

I'm stressed.

My son does not speak. He makes all kinds of noises. He has said a few words here and there. I try to accept the fact that he may never speak, but if he does not pick up signs faster...if he does not make eye contact to pick up the signs...what then? When other little kids his age are learning their numbers and letters, what is my son learning? How will he ever catch up? This is where my mind goes in the wee hours of the morning.

The bottom line for me is not will he do well socially, or how will autism ultimately affect his life, etc. It is the fact that I don't know my son. I have an idea of him, of his spirit and I can see what some of his likes and dislikes are by the way he reacts. But, I don't know if he has a favorite color. I don't know what he thinks about when he watches DVD or flips through a book. He's been on the earth for six years and I don't know my son. I've never heard him say I love you. I've never heard, "Mommy, I want..." Just a hand dragging me somewhere.

That's my heartache.

Alright, so spiritually speaking, maybe he did come in this way, knew this would happen and my soul knew it too. Even placating myself with this idea that somehow everything that has happened was meant to be doesn't take away the fact that I miss my son.

He's here physically but I'm lonely for him. It's like he's got one foot in this world and one in another one where I can't join him. Duh. I know, that's autism.

I am sure that one of the reasons I'm feeling particularly blue lately is because last week a little five-year-old boy much like Liberty, whose mom had a blog just like mine and who did all kinds of biomed stuff with him and chronicled his progress like I do almost each day...was run over in his driveway and killed. That woman has been in my prayers each day and night. I didn't know her personally, but I KNOW her. I can't go to the funeral, it would rip me apart.

I've hugged my son tighter, and I am so vigilant about his whereabouts outside. We don't live on a busy street, but there was a time a year ago he got outside and ran all the way down the street where there was an intersection. I've never run so hard and so fast in my life. The vigilance is always right there, like a panther breathing down my neck, "watch out."

I know what that woman would say to me after reading my above statement. "At least you still have your son with you." It's true. I don't understand what's going on with him. I might not ever really get it. But, he's here with me and I love him deeply.

So, to paraphrase what my friend said, I guess all I can do is be happy when the good things happen and try to do the best I can to get through the rough times. Because there is always ebb and flow, in all things. You can see from my previous posts that we have had some great things happen, like great teachers and great days, and then some other days where I'm scraping crap off the walls and falling into bed each night. Lib was doing so well that I even felt a little bit of the load lighten up, enough for me to post about the odd feelings that were released and my blogger friend Carrie remarked that I am experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder. I never thought of it like that, but it rings true.

I usually keep all of these down feelings in check by appreciating what I have. I kind of lost it this past week. That's why I haven't posted. I was afraid someone would accuse me of my blog being "such a downer" again. God. Forbid.

I guess I'm only human.