A Sign Whose Presence Ticked Me Off

So, as I was traveling across the Florida Panhandle with my husband and Luke when I came across this sign. It really rubbed me the wrong way. Two questions; 1. Why in the heck are they announcing this to the world?, 2. Do the parents of this child think that it is MY responsibility to watch out for THEIR child? I have children and it is MY responsibility to ensure their safety. I do not try to make other people responsible for MY responsibilities.

Another thing... the sign should read "Caution Child With Autism", not "Caution Autistic Child". The child is a person first. The disability comes second. Not autistic child, but child with autism. Ugh!

Thought Provoking

I saw an old friend the other day at my grandmother's place. My old friend looked good. She has two children. One is 4 and is autistic. The other is around 3, I think. She had a chance to meet Luke. She knelt down by his stroller and talked to him like he was a normal two year old. Most people do this, but I always feel awkward. With her, I didn't. I knew that she has been through the same thing. She asked if Luke was ok with being touched. Her son was comfortable with touch. I told her that he is comfortable with touch. She was good with Luke. It was neat to see.

My son is extraordinary. He smiles and likes to be touched. He will cuddle with me or Marty. Last night, I was holding him while I was sitting on the couch. Luke pulled up on my shoulders and pressed his face against mine. He was smiling and laughing and babbling. Times like those are "Jaime Therapy". Something my heart and soul needs.

I cannot imagine how mothers feel when they give birth to a child who does not like their touch. It is innate for a mother to touch her child and for the child to find comfort and healing in this. I have heard many stories where a child has been deathly ill and the mother has held the child, bare skin to bare skin and this provided healing for the child. I guess I have never really given Luke the chance to reject my touch. I do not push him beyond his boundaries, yet I always take advantage of his good moods. He hated showers, yet I always took time to bath with him. I held him, bare skin to bare skin. He would fuss for a while, but find comfort in my arms. He hated the water, but my presence helped him push himself beyond his sensory issues.

I will admit that Luke spends a lot of time playing, by himself, on the floor. A typical child would demand attention and therefor receive attention. Luke does not demand it, and does not get as much attention as the other children in our family. Sometimes guilt creeps in, but I do what I can to not allow it to stay. It doesn't change anything. Luke is different. I make sure his basic needs are met, but I have to get things done in my house. None of my kids get an extreme amount of attention. I, more or less, expect them to entertain themselves. Right or wrong, it's what has to be done in a family of 6. It's amazing how we all fit into our place and space in our family. Even Luke fits. Our family has a lot of work to do, but we are blessed to have each other. Every child and each adult is worth the work.

An Overwhelming Need

I am noticing something about myself- I have an overwhelming need to share my story about Luke with other people. I need to share with other parents of children with disabilities. I keep finding ways to do this. Today, at work, I spoke with a lady around my age who is volunteering at my school. Every day I find a way to talk about it. I have been through so much in the past couple of years. It has been a mix of sweet and sour experiences.

What I am about to share is very personal, but it is part of my journey. I married my husband on September 30, 2006. I had two little girls from my previous marriage. My husband had a boy from his previous marriage. We were happy with the three we had. We did not want any more children. I was on birth control and my husband planned to have a vasectomy in late December. As fate would have it, or as part of God's plan, I conceived Luke a couple weeks before Marty had his vasectomy. In late December, I knew I was pregnant. I had all day sickness and many other pregnancy related symptoms. I went to the doctor when I was a week late. They did a blood test and told me that it was negative. A week later, I had a period. So, I accepted the fact that I wasn't pregnant with joy. 4 weeks later, I was still feeling sick along with the other things, so I went back to the doctor thinking I was going crazy. They did a urine test and told me that I was pregnant. I broke down into tears. This was not part of the plan.

I continued having periods for 3 months. Then, during month 3 I woke up in a puddle of blood. I was in pain, so we went to the emergency room. I was never seen. The next morning I had an ultrasound and all was well with Luke. No one knows why bled. In the 8th month of pregnancy I began running out of amniotic fluid. The ultrasound I had on the afternoon of the 21st of August 2007 proved that I needed to go right to the hospital to have a c-section. Luke was breech. He was feet first and his umbilical cord was right underneath his little toes. He had to be delivered by c-section.

The pregnancy and the delivery was traumatic for me. There was so much stress. So, Luke was delivered. He was so cute. He looked like a little alien. Just like his mommy :) The first week after his birth was hard. There were three other kids in the house. My in-laws were in town. No one seemed to really be paying attention to my needs. I came home from the hospital running a 104 degree fever and in severe pain. I was left alone in the house with Luke and the two girls. I finally called my mother to come get the girls. I couldn't handle it. I was tired and in pain and feeling quite stressed because people were more concerned about a certain two people in my house than about me or Baby Luke. My mom picked up the girls. I was so thankful. I couldn't take care of them at the moment. Even with all that I was going through, I ended up being told off because I sent the girls away. It was weird and traumatic. It has been two years and yet I still hurt over the situation. I felt so small and meaningless.

A couple months later, I began realizing that Luke was "neurologically young". I felt, in the pit of my stomach, that something wasn't right. At the age of 5 months, Luke began the journey of testing, doctor's appointments, more testing, and more doctor's appointments.

I love my son. I am passionate about my son. We, as a family, are finally getting to point of understanding, compassion, and kindness that we should have been when I had Luke. In writing about this, I am trying to forgive. I am trying to move past two years of trauma. I love my family- my husband, kids, parents, in-laws, etc. But I can acknowledge that I have been hurt.