Struggling Against the Autism Pit

A couple of weeks ago we took a break from our regular nighttime routine of watching old “AFV” shows with the kids and broke out our own videos.

Our videos — like lots of other things in our lives — are a jumbled mishmash, unsorted and unlabeled.  So it was a bit of an adventure to see what we stumbled upon.

Clearly the novelty of the video camera hadn’t worn out when the kids were young, because we had what felt like HOURS of footage capturing the most mundane of tasks.

What’s sticking with me weeks later is the video of baby Carson at about two-months-old.  Roly-poly, smiling, content, interactive Carson.  NO SIGN OF AUTISM.

I was transfixed by the videos, searching for any clues of early signs of autism that we simply missed.  Nothing.  Fast forward six months later –  STILL NO SIGN OF AUTISM.

We were completely unprepared for the turn our lives would take in just a few short months.   I envy the younger version of ourselves on the video tape – over-tired, excited for our future, oblivious that something was amiss with baby Carson.  It’s painful to watch.

Those videos have made me a little melancholy, and I’m having to catch myself for fear of slipping in to a pit of sadness and self-pity.  I found myself choking back tears when I held a friend’s precious two-month-old baby the other day.  The little cherub reminded me so much of Carson, and the emotions just flooded me.

I know I have lots to be grateful for.  Carson has made great progress over the years;  I have a supportive husband by my side;  and we’re fortunate enough to get him the therapy and support he needs.  But sometimes I just have to remind myself and stay focused.  I just can’t help dipping my toe into that pit, and I’m afraid that before I know it, I’ll slip in neck-deep.

Coincidentally – or not – I happen to be reading a book for my women’s group called “Get Out of that Pit,” by Beth Moore.   I’m not even halfway through, so I can’t tell you what pearls of wisdom I’ll walk away with.   But in our group discussions so far, the message I’m hearing is to remember that we’re not in this walk alone.  God is always there to guide me — I just need to ask.  I know this in my heart, but sometimes I need a little reminder.

Each of us has our own pit at some point in our life –  a chronic illness, death of a loved one, an abusive relationship, addiction, self-loathing.   It’s simply life.  The pit that’s sucking me in at this moment in MY life just happens to be dealing with having a child with autism.

Through struggle comes growth, and I can honestly say I’m grateful for the change that my pit has brought about in my life.  Patience. Sensitivity. Compassion for  others’ struggles. Perseverance. Carson has taught me all of that and more.

I know I’m not alone in my on-again, off-again mommy blues.  I have lots of friends with special needs children, and we all share a common bond to some degree over the sadness.  One friend calls it a chronic sadness – often times hidden, but unrelenting in its grip on your soul.  Sometimes it creeps up on you in the most unexpected way.

For me, it comes in waves – one moment I’m relishing the small victories, optimistic at the progress Carson’s making; the next I’m overwhelmed and sad as I come to terms with the struggles Carson will likely face his whole life.

Over time, the sad moments have been replaced with more happy ones.  But I know that lingering – that chronic sadness that autism has brought in to our lives – will never completely go away.

For me,  I cope by relying on friendships with other moms who share similar experiences  – those friendships have made all the difference.  I’m also pretty good about carving out “me” time or “couple” time  – we all need a little escape.  And I keep reminding myself when things look bleak that I’m doing the best that I can for Carson and my family.  A good cry every once in a while does a soul good!