Living with an autistic teenager is one of the hardest things in life. Day to day is such a roller coaster and you never know from moment to moment what is coming next. Every single time you think you have things under control, life turns around and whacks you in the head.
It is the little things that you miss: the things most parents take for granted. The words "I love you, Mom" followed by a huge hug. The touch of your child's hand held in yours. That back and forth verbal patter between parent and child. All of that is mostly absent in the home of an autistic child.
You live with a stranger most of the time. This is the child you raised but there is a whole world going on inside them that you are not party to. There is no deep emotional discussions or the long rambling on about what the future might hold. Conversations are so superficial, about as deep as a puddle after a light summer rain.
There is no such thing as a fair fight with an autistic teen. Without the emotional bonds, there is nothing to hold them to you. Let them get out the door and they might never come back.
I live with an autistic teen and it has been the most frustrating, irritating, heart wrenching part of parenthood. Yet, at night when he is asleep in his bed, I sneak in and watch him sleep. I imagine the child he could have been and the adult I hope he will someday become. I am running out of time. He is fifteen, soon to be sixteen. There are only a couple years left to shape him. I can hear the ticking of the clock and I am afraid. Afraid to lose him, afraid to fail, but more afraid of letting go. I love this child with my heart and soul. He takes so much and gives so little but he is still mine. Flesh of my flesh. I long for the words "I love you" and the brush of his lips across my cheek. I long to hear his hopes and dreams for the future. But most of all, I long for the knowledge that he will be alright. That he will someday learn to drive, get married, have children, provide for a family. That we will be able to look back and say we did our job and he is successful...
It is the little things that you miss: the things most parents take for granted. The words "I love you, Mom" followed by a huge hug. The touch of your child's hand held in yours. That back and forth verbal patter between parent and child. All of that is mostly absent in the home of an autistic child.
You live with a stranger most of the time. This is the child you raised but there is a whole world going on inside them that you are not party to. There is no deep emotional discussions or the long rambling on about what the future might hold. Conversations are so superficial, about as deep as a puddle after a light summer rain.
There is no such thing as a fair fight with an autistic teen. Without the emotional bonds, there is nothing to hold them to you. Let them get out the door and they might never come back.
I live with an autistic teen and it has been the most frustrating, irritating, heart wrenching part of parenthood. Yet, at night when he is asleep in his bed, I sneak in and watch him sleep. I imagine the child he could have been and the adult I hope he will someday become. I am running out of time. He is fifteen, soon to be sixteen. There are only a couple years left to shape him. I can hear the ticking of the clock and I am afraid. Afraid to lose him, afraid to fail, but more afraid of letting go. I love this child with my heart and soul. He takes so much and gives so little but he is still mine. Flesh of my flesh. I long for the words "I love you" and the brush of his lips across my cheek. I long to hear his hopes and dreams for the future. But most of all, I long for the knowledge that he will be alright. That he will someday learn to drive, get married, have children, provide for a family. That we will be able to look back and say we did our job and he is successful...
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