Reciprocity, Blessings, and Christmas

Lib came home the other day and suddenly went for my feet, grabbing at them. He knocked me on the bed and I thought there was something about my socks he didn't like. (Certain textures even on someone else can really bug him). But, then I realized...he was tickling me! So, I tickled his feet and he tickled mine. He was participating in a tickle game with me!

Sure enough, I got a note from the teacher that day that said Lib enjoyed lots of hugs and tickling in school. Do you love this woman as much as I do?

This is a big deal as anyone with a child with autism knows. Reciprocal play is one of the coveted goals in school and in therapy.

As if that wasn't enough to send me into spasms of happiness, Lib's teacher said he actually participated in a game the other day. Something called Puppy Racers. An actual game.

Then, in adaptive PE, he started mimicking the stretches the teacher was leading them in. I have never in my life seen him do this. Lib's teacher said she attended adaptive PE that day and watched him learn to jump with both feet on a fulcrum that had a bunch of bean bags on the other end, and apparently, he was delighted when he watched the bags fly off the other end. Even when he jumps on the bed, his feet are not in tandem.

Later, at home, I watched him fly around the house and try to jump with both feet and giggle. The PE teacher said she had never seen Lib participate like he did that day.

This is the feedback you live for.

You know, watching Liberty these days is like watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis. Or maybe it's more like The Invisible Man becoming visible. First a finger, then a hand. I remember when he could not not jump, could not even run, and would not hold onto a swing. It was is if he wasn't fully present, one foot in two different worlds.

Now, I'm enjoying great eye contact every day. I see him glance over his shoulder at me furl his eyebrows, trying to catch what I just said. He searches my face for meaning now.

This is real progress for my boy. Still, I have to guard myself right now from comparing him too much to neurotypical children.

All over the television right now are advertisements of "the perfect Christmas" where tiny children are recording their voices saying "Merry Christmas" to grandparents. It always gets to me. I look at the child to see if I can guess how old he or she is and what it would have been like if things had been different - if Lib had been talking at that age.

I was in Wal-mart (unfortunately) today and Lib wanted to walk down the toy aisle. There was a child, probably 3 or 4 years old, happily conversing with his mother, saying "I have to have this for Christmas, Mommy." And she would ask him the names of the toys and he would respond. I feel my heart start to sink when this happens. If I allow myself to go there, I will fall into a funk.

I must keep my eyes on the positive. Is the glass half full or half empty? Do I have reason to hope or is all lost? Can it always be worse? Is today all we have to appreciate everything? This is the dialogue I begin when my Emotional Self climbs up onto the ledge again, trembling.

Yes, I am happy that my son is doing so well and he's so healthy.

But, for me, 'tis the Season of Talking to Myself - a lot.