I
forget, sometimes, those things that I didn’t really want to discover in the
first place.
Sometimes I can go weeks without remembering Samuel is on the autistic spectrum and with that, is less mature than my other children were at the same age. The rule of thumb is that as an eight-year-old, Samuel has the emotional maturity of a five-year-old.
This
has always been tough for him because he is so tall and people usually guess he
is much older than his age. At times I vacillate between, “Be the same with him
as I was with the girls” or “Make exceptions because of his uniqueness” or
sometimes I just throw my hands in the air and give up momentarily.
I
like to think I treat all my children uniquely, but when I step back I realize
my expectations have been different for Samuel when I am staunchly in the “but
he is on the spectrum” camp. He has matured so much over the past few years, it
is challenging when he suddenly is wracked with anxiety and stops sleeping well
or starts perseverating on one topic again or insists in his routines when I
don’t have the time for them.
Then I remember how I am different from moment to moment. I remember how some days I am strong and unstoppable and other days, I need to be cuddled and held and the slightest compliment or the slightest critique can set me off.
I
face my own mothering quandaries from the perspective of being a “Special Needs
Sibling” myself. It is not something I would have put on my “experiences I want
my children to have” order form. It isn’t that it was a bad thing on my
childhood “to-do” list, it just is known to have a different group of trials
than going to the beach or Disneyland or getting braces or glasses or going to
Girl Scout camp.
The
past two months have been dense with creative activity and while I love it, I
also know I am exhausted and the need for a break has become something I know
in both my bones and my veins. I have
been looking forward to my upcoming trip to Tucson with the hunger of a
ravenous baby, looking for her Mama’s spoon.
As
the mother of a child on the spectrum, I also know I need to prepare Samuel for
my absence. I need to be sure his increased anxiety doesn’t push him over the
top and I need to prepare everyone who is involved in his care and education
know I will be gone and what that might mean for him behaviorally.
It
seems like so much, but on the flip side, I have to know that being intentional
on this level will serve each and all of us and that when I return from Tucson,
I will be refreshed and come back to a mostly smiling child versus a mostly
angry child.
I
wonder how my mother did it, leaving her son – my brother, John – behind. How
did she leave her precious baby with Down’s Syndrome? I remember those few
times she left us in the care of a usually older woman baby sitter who would
stay in our house. One of them, I remember, was Mrs. Garrity. I had extreme
separation anxiety until I was a teen, so these trips have little in my memory
banks.
I
mostly remember anxious waiting followed by unbelievably relieved reunions.
Looking
back, I understand how badly my mother needed those rare moments away, usually
accompanying my father on his business trips where she could luxuriate in hotel
rooms and lounge by a poolside of a Holiday Inn or Howard Johnson hotel –
nothing fancy but quiet and alone.
I am going to Tucson to see my eldest daughter, Katherine, perform with the Western Regional Honor Choir. She is graduating in June and then is off to Massachusetts. Scant moments basking only in her light are important to me. I don’t want to share these moments with her younger siblings: I want them to be hers and hers alone. I can check in with Katherine when I am in Tucson, let her know I am close but not hovering close, not distractingly close.
She
will experience her time of intense musical learning and know I am there, to
see her end result, her deep love of music and performance.
I
purposefully am not chaperoning her trip so I can retreat in a city I do not
know but that has a certain funky appeal to me. I am arriving in the wee hours
of Thursday morning by Amtrak and my mother is joining me on Friday afternoon.
It will be just enough alone time before she arrives.
Then
she and I can explore Tucson a bit – I am looking forward to being in the Arts
District and perhaps seeing some flora and fauna – before watching Katherine
perform and having a celebratory, three generation dinner.
Samuel
and Emma will be in Bakersfield with people who love them.
I
will trust they will both be fine and I will return, better than fine. They
will remember I leave and I come back, I can leave with the lines between my
eyes pronounced and return with a relaxed, cheerful face.
It sounds just right to me.
Just what you need...sunshine is the great healer. Enjoy please.
b
Posted by: b | February 25, 2010 at 07:18 PM