G-d is watching over you.

      They say that there are melachim (angels), watching over our children. I am convinced that G-d himself watches over the ones with special needs. I remember one morning when Sruly was about two and a half and I was about seven or eight months pregnant. I was still at a stage where I was completely denying and even fighting the "possibility" that our son may have autism. (This was before we had gone to get a second opinion, which still took me a long time to accept.) I was cleaning up our front porch while keeping only half an eye on Sruly since the gate was up. I was daydreaming a little, enjoying the weather while organizing our home and did not hear Sruly open the gate. I had no idea he knew how to do that. These kids can pull a Houdini move when you least expect it.

     To this day he can still baffle me with the knowledge that he has but doesn't let on. Perhaps it is easier for him to sometimes just play dumb, or maybe he is just socially unsure of how to share with us what he has learned. Maybe he is simply content just watching, learning and quietly taking it all in at a comfortable pace and doesn't feel the need like the rest of us do to share when we have learned something new. I don't know, but when he does surprise me I usually feel like an idiot for not believing in him, all while celebrating the new skill he has just mastered. He is going to be in trouble when he learns to communicate a little bit better. I am going to bombard him with questions as to what exactly is going on in that smart little brain of his! But for now things will remain a mystery...just for now.

      Before I continue I just want to explain that sometimes kids on the spectrum view the sidewalk, the neighbor's front lawn and the street as one big running / play area that is open to all without boundaries or dangers. Thankfully, as they get older and become more aware and in touch with their surroundings, they start to realize that the sidewalk has a clear beginning and end. Front lawns and back yards prove to be just that, and the street clearly becomes a place where cars and not people frequent.... well usually! But when Sruly was younger he was a bolter and a runner.

      Well, a few seconds after he opened the gate I turned around and quickly realized that he was gone. I ran to the front door, saw that he wasn't on the first floor and yelled for my husband. I scanned our quiet street and saw Sruly running at full speed ahead down our street towards a very busy street. My husband, understanding that the frantic pitch in my voice meant something serious, came flying down the stairs and out the door. In mid stride I pointed and yelled, "Sruly!" I knew there was no way I could reach him in time and wasn't so sure my husband would either. He jumped over the side of our porch and ran as fast as he could down the street after Sruly, but we quickly realized we needed a miracle. Apparently my husband wasn't the only one who was trying to make the hundred meter dash. A 220 pound Italian contractor had seen the events unfolding, heard my yell, put two and two together and decided to join the chase. At that very moment a car came quickly around the corner of our street, drove right up to Sruly and stopped. The driver jumped out of his car and grabbed Sruly. He picked him up and the two of them slowly began walking up our street back to our house and it was then that my husband caught up to them. Another stride or two and Sruly would have found himself in the middle of a very busy street and the rest I don't even want to think about about. My husband, Mr Levin and Sruly reached our porch where I was still standing, completely numb. I was still registering what had happened.

      Mr Levin looked at us and said, "You know, I never drive down this street at this time, I just happened to be late for work."

Tears came to my eyes as I reached out to hold Sruly.

      Thank you G-d.

                                                                 

Trip to the Library

     Well, I think I had a moment of insanity when I decided to take all of the kids to the library. How hard could it be? I take them all to the zoo. And I am sure I have taken them all to the library by myself before, I just can't remember when. So I got my three year old dressed, or rather she got herself dressed and I re-dressed her. She picked out an outfit fit for a three year old with glorious colors and designs carefully chosen making sure nothing matched... well at least we agreed on matching boots (in 65 degree weather), and nothing was inside out anymore. And out the door we went! Well, ok, it wasn't that easy but it did take us about 15 min to get out the door which was pretty impressive timing if I may say so myself. I just hoped my three year old would keep her jacket on so she looked somewhat put together and cared for.

     As soon as we got there my eldest returned his books and the rest of us went over to the kids section. I think I turned around for 0.01 of a second when my three year old took off running down the hall with about 25 adults looking on with interest as to whom this child belonged to, and how long it would take the parent to realize one was on the loose. In my defense, I think three-year-olds put Olympic athletes to shame. I knew my 9-year-old could sprint faster than me, albeit I can run pretty fast but I saw that Sruly already made himself at home so I quickly recruited my son to intercept his sister before she reached the elevators. Touchdown! Even the security guard seemed amused. Or so I thought. He was probably just relieved that someone had come to claim the toddler and bring law and order back to his library... or so he thought. My son, proud of his accomplishment at racing his sister to the elevator and winning even though she had a good few seconds on him, carried her back screaming and protesting. Finally all together again, we headed towards the children's section.

     We must have come in kind of breathless with somewhat of a run because when we suddenly came to a stop, collecting ourselves and me taking another head count, I awkwardly felt about 15 sets of eyes on us. Now, I usually try to avoid the computers and only allow my kids to go to the books - being the earthy crunchy parent that I can be, but this time I welcomed anything that would keep at least two in one place. By the time I finished scanning the room, making sure everyone was safe, I lost one already. Oh, wait, there he was. Sruly was defiantly making himself at home. I took down a book off of the shelf and called him over to come and sit down with me to look at the book. He came over, sat down, looked at the first few pages and then looked at me with a look that said, "You have got to be kidding me Ma! We both know that I can identify everything in these pages and then some, and this is just something to keep me busy." Then he looked at me in the eyes and I knew he read my face. I was in trouble now. I smile spread across his face. He knew exactly what he had to do to get a rise out of me. Here we go I thought. I had prayed for so long for him to come out of his own little world and become aware of his surroundings and do things that typical children do and yes, I can confidently say he knows exactly what is going on, more than what he lets on I might add, and YES, he was definitely acting typical!!! It's a good thing he is cute....

      So while I was busy with Sruly, I kept a close eye on my three year old who made it her mission to read all of the books she could get her hands on. And yes, my others were still at the computer for all of you who began to worry about them. I half hoped, alright, I really hoped I would find another mom with a child with special needs but all I saw were what looked like to me a room full of first time parents all trim and fit, looking like they had just come from an awesome Pilates class, hovering over their perfectly dressed and well behaved children who probably never saw junk food in their life and begged for Humus for dessert.

      Well, all in all I think it was a pretty good trip. This time we didn't have any mishaps in the bathroom, we didn't wipe out an entire shelf, ok last time it was two shelves... no one needed a change of clothes, we only had one short melt down and I didn't have to hand out any bribery... which was a good thing because the "perfect parents" probably would have fainted and anyway I forgot to bring my little stash. So yes, I felt it was a success, but I think I will stick to the zoo...  

                                                     

On Finding Love Again

     When we were first learning our son may have autism, I connected with another woman in our community who also has a son with autism. The first time I called Eve I was overwhelmed with her warmth, but even more so with her openness. I was still unwilling to talk about autism, even more so be open about it. I was still hiding and hoping. Hoping it would go away, hoping they would realize it was a miss diagnosis and like many parents,  I even blamed myself for his autism. She wasted no time in inviting us over to her home so we could talk a little. On a Saturday afternoon, after our Shabbat meal, my husband and I walked over with Sruly.

     As we were walking I was silently praying that I wouldn't start crying. I was afraid that if I had to start talking about Sruly I would just fall apart. Things were still so fresh and fragile for me. We knocked, and Eve immediately came to the door. She was truly excited to see us. Right away Eve called her son over to come and meet us. I must say, as soon as her little 9 year old son walked into the room I just fell in love with him. He was beautiful, polite, honest and charmingly quirky. We said our hellos, made some small talk and than he asked to go back to doing his puzzle. Eve had to correct him a couple of times until he worded his sentence correctly, all the while making sure he was looking into her eyes as he spoke, but he got it! He said what he wanted with a smile on his face and than went back to his puzzle. I was simply amazed! Eve was so excited about her son, about who he was and how far he had come. She was truly excited and was clearly glowing with pride!

     At that stage in my life I didn't know if it would be possible for me to feel like that. How had she reached that point? Did she always feel like that? Was she always so confident? Did she ever go through denial? Did she at any time feel like I was feeling? I felt distant from our son and hurt. Distant because I didn't feel like I could connect with him. I didn't understand him. How could I? We didn't understand each other's languages. Most of the time he seemed to be in his own little world. I didn't know how to get into his world and he didn't seem to understand ours. I was hurt by his lack of physical affection and felt horribly guilty about this. Wasn't a mother supposed to reach out lovingly towards her children? Wasn't a mother supposed to understand her children, know how to connect with them and give them unconditional love???...and he was just a little child! Here I was, the adult, who I felt was most certainly not acting like an adult. It was childish that I felt hurt but I just couldn't shake off that feeling. It was painful to admit, but I felt I needed his love and outreach in order to love him. Up until then I felt I was a pretty good parent, but feeling like I needed some love from my child in order for me to be able to love and connect with him in return was simply an outrageous, painful, humiliating and a very humbling feeling.

     Eve took us upstairs to see his therapy room. She explained to me that most families have therapies set up in the child's bedroom, living room or dining room, but they were lucky enough to have a separate room in the house for his therapies. The whole idea of having an area in the home set aside for therapy was new to me. She seemed so organized and calm about everything. Just the idea of having a part of our home set aside for therapy and opening our home to therapists was overwhelming! She pointed out some safety precautions they took to make sure their son stayed safe within their home. She explained to me that many of these children were extremely curious and did not have a sense of danger.I didn't fully understand what that meant. Part of me thought, "Oh, we will never have to do that for Sruly!" And the other part of me just felt more and more distant from this child. They put up child locks on the windows, a gate in his bedroom doorway so he wouldn't wander around the house during the night time, a special lock on the doors leading to the outside and a few other things. She showed us a net swing they had gotten their son for sensory input. Sruly tried it out and was immediately calm and quiet. He loved it. It was still difficult for me to engage him and I didn't feel like I could share in his happiness, but I felt his calmness when he relaxed in the swing and this was reassuring to me. If I felt peace in my heart when he was comforted then surely that must mean I love him.

     Looking back, the turmoil of guilt a parent can put themselves through is pretty unbelievable. And even when another parent or therapist looks at you in the eye and tells you that no, this is not your fault,.... when you are in the heat of it all you somehow believe otherwise. It's interesting how distant, yet connected one can sometimes feel. There was so much that I missed and so much that was new, uncertain and scary. I just wanted to bond with him. I wanted to share in his excitement, pride and enthusiasm at accomplishing new things. I wanted to share in his fear, his worry and curiosity about life. I was so focused on him being seemingly emotionally detached and distant that I was completely missing the path on how to get there. My heart ached to bond with him again, to communicate, to share joy and happiness... To bond with the baby that cooed when I picked him up, that smiled when we made funny faces and did what parents to best; act ridiculous.

      In the weeks and months that followed, i did what most parents do. I read. I read about about diet, supplements and therapies. I couldn't stop reading. It was my way of gaining some sort of control, and of course, still hoping to "fix it". The two main types of therapies that caught my eye were "Floor Time" and "ABA". I loved what both had to offer, but at that time, Floortime was what I felt I needed most. I learned to talk in a sing song voice, to act like a kid again, get down on the floor and just play! It's funny how sometimes adults need to learn how to act like a kid again. I learned how to be animated and express excitement during our play time. I sang, had music going and slowly discovered his favorite videos, all song and dance based. He loved song and dance. He loved music and movement. Together we would watch his favorite music videos, dance to the music and slowly, ever so slowly our worlds began to connect. He looked at me with curiosity and a smile when I spoke to him in a sing-song voice and his face lit up when I sang his favorite songs. One of the videos he loved was the Baby Einstein series. The puppets would make animated and lively noises, the music was calming and the scenes were not overly stimulating, he could follow them and seemed to understand what was going on. This was exciting for me to see in him. I had a brainstorm of trying to find puppets similar to the those that were on Baby Einstein. I found some cute animal puppets and would use them to play together with Sruly. I would have the puppets tickle him and we would just act silly. He loved it! I am not sure who it was more therapeutic for, Sruly or myself! One day I noticed a smile spread across Sruly's face during a particular scene. The puppets were acting silly. Slowly his smile grew until he began to laugh. Soon he was laughing so hard he fell off his chair! The scene ended and Sruly became quiet again. Wanting to see if he was truly laughing at the puppets being silly, I re-played the scene. This time he began laughing as soon as they started. He was laughing so hard he couldn't stand up straight! A light bulb went off in my head. I now had my foot in the door. I think I must have re-played that scene about 20 times.

                                            

      One of my siblings, as a toddler, was not too fond of snuggling or being held for longer that necessary.  My parents, knowing that all children need physical love and affection tried to figure out how to make sure this child got it even though he seemed to back away from it. Finally my father came up with an idea that only a father can think of. Rough housing! Every evening after my father came home from work, he would get on the floor with my little brother and rough house with him. My father would embrace him in huge bare hugs and the two of them would roll around on the floor and "tackle" each other. Looking back made me realize two things. One, the importance of outreach and two, that physical touch doesn't have to be snuggling and typical hugs. Thus began our nightly family "dance parties" with music and rough housing. Every time Sruly would smile my heart sang. Evey time he would look at us in the eyes, we would celebrate and praise him. He would bask in our praise and drink up our love. Love. I was learning to love again, but this time, it was a deeper kind of love.

I was learning and my soul was singing.

I was finding love again.

-Matana B