You Knew

To the woman who stopped to help me mid-meltdown in the supermarket...

Dear lady,

I must apologise for not knowing your name, but I never had a chance to ask.  You may remember me; I was the mum in Safeway about four weeks ago crouched on the floor trying to settle a screaming child and surrounded by other children with stressed out faces.  I just wanted to say thank you, so much, for what you did.  You might think you didn't do anything, that you only said something, but what you said, did something for me.

You see, I could tell some things by those few words you said to me.  You came over with a trolley of your own, and a small child sitting in it.  (I didn't even get a chance to look closely enough to gauge how old your own child was, that's how deeply I was concentrating on managing my son).  You gently but firmly touched my shoulder and said:

"Excuse me ma'am, can I do anything to help?"

The way you approached, and those simple words revealed to me that you knew.  You knew what you were looking at.  You knew what it meant.  And you knew how to approach me.  And with that only, I got a little bit of extra strength - a little bit of encouragement to be reminded that I am not alone when I experience these incidents, and that I am doing ok as a mum.

Sometimes it's hard to believe that, when you are trying to manage a screaming six year old in front of dozens of people coming and going through a main thoroughfare of a busy supermarket.  I have grown a thick skin and acquired skills enough to cope with these situations - to be honest, I cope quite well when I'm in the middle of it.  But it's when I come home afterwards, that I fall apart at the seams.  In the middle of it, I am confident, calm, collected and clear thinking.  When it hits me later, I am shattered, exhausted, discouraged and sad.  Sometimes, I cry.  I can easily ignore the funny looks people might give - to be honest, I don't even look to notice anymore.  I just carry on caring for my son as best I can.  But I'm pretty sure they are there.  There are always people around who will blame me for the situation, and it's still hard not to blame myself anyway.  So encouragement from a stranger really means a lot to me.

Your offer of help was both timely and appropriate.  You were not judging me - you just saw a mum having a hard time and wanted to help.  I'm certain you knew immediately that my son was autistic and having a meltdown for whatever reason.  Even now, as I write and remember, I feel choked up inside with gratefulness,  that you got it.  You read the situation correctly.

I couldn't tell you what was happening at the time, and I happened to already have had the situation covered, but I'd like to offer an explanation now, even though you probably will never see this.

We had just come back from church, my four children and I, and I thought I'd pick up a few things for lunch and for school the next day.  My husband was away on army training for the weekend.  All we needed was bananas, apples, bread and one more thing, which I can't remember what it was now.  We didn't need a trolley for those things, just a basket.  Erik has been in a supermarket plenty of times.  He has done the full shopping with me before - it's intense, but we can do it.  He is familiar with it.  But in his mind, there must always be a trolley.  I tried to convince him the basket would do, but he would not have it.  I persisted, not wanting to lose the battle, but it escalated quickly, and it all got too much.

At some point, I have to draw a line.  It's not fair on him, and it's not fair on other patrons to the shop.  I try to be strong in teaching him things, but sometimes, I have to concede the battle, you know, for the greater good.  So I sent my oldest daughter around the corner with a token for a trolley.  Literally, just over the barrier where I could see her.  We were waiting for her to return with a trolley when you approached us.  I knew that once that trolley was here, Erik would be ok.  All he wanted was a trolley.  Shopping is not right without a trolley.  (Incidentally, I am so grateful that he doesn't insist on sitting in the baby seat anymore!)

Once we got the trolley, I had to convince Erik that it was here for him and he could sit in it if he wanted (the main part).  He wasn't to be mollified immediately though, by this point he was far too upset.  It took a few minutes, but I managed to convince him by hauling him up physically, and then he allowed me to lift him into the trolley.  He immediately stopped crying at that point.  I felt defeated, but relieved.  I went around and picked up the few items I needed, and we went to the check out and back to the car.  When I got home, I felt so emotionally drained, I had to lie in bed for a while.  Fortunately, my husband had gotten home before us, so I was able to do that.

Your offer of help blessed me so much.  Because of you, I know that the message is getting out there, or at least, I know that I am not the only one (just in case you have a child with an ASD of your own and that's how you knew what was happening).  I have been lucky to have had only one truly nasty comment regarding my son, plenty of ignorant ones and a few well-meaning but annoying people trying to help in entirely the wrong way.  But until you came along, had never had anyone genuinely helpful in a situation like this.

I will probably never see you again - truth be told, I can't even remember what you look like, Erik just commanded every part of my focus at the time.  All I remember is that you had dark hair, were not very tall, and had a small one in the trolley seat.  I just want to say thank you.  And I hope, should you ever find yourself in a situation where you need the kindness of a stranger, God sends you someone just at the right moment, with the right thing to say and do to help you.

With deepest appreciation,

Vivianne.



xx

I Want To Tell You...

Dear Erik,

You blew my mind yesterday son, did you know that?  I bet you didn't, because I didn't really express my excitement as much as I wanted to.  I worry about freaking you out a little bit with an overreaction, so I tend to keep a reign on my excitement when you do something awesome.  I tell you quietly and privately that that thing you did was very good, when really what I want to do is jump up and down like a maniac, and whoop and holler to the whole world.

Yesterday, two things happened that made me smile and reminded me of the inextinguishable little flame of hope inside me; that one day, I will hear you speak proper and true.

The first thing, I wasn't even there for.  I heard it from your aunty, who works at your school, but I believe every word anyway.  There was a change in the buses at school and you were to take a different bus home.  Different bus, but same route.  You were the kid who flipped out over having a different bus.  You were the one screaming and fighting and trying to run off.  While it breaks my heart to know that you were so distressed over the changes, your aunty tells me that you said something to all those people who were trying to convince you to get on that bus:

"No! No!  Wrong bus!"  You cried.

When I heard about this, it took my breath away, son.  You, finding those perfectly appropriate words and speaking them out in a perfectly appropriate situation, has left me speechless.   And I still can't find the words to express how I feel, knowing you. said. that!

You escaped the grip of the teachers and aides around you and ran to your aunty, whom you recognised among the group of people around, and threw yourself into her.  This too blows my mind honey;  You went to the most familiar face for help and comfort!  And yes, she was able to get you calmly on to that bus.  By the way, I have to say, you still didn't look too impressed about the whole situation when I picked you up.  Cutie.  But oh, my darling, if you only knew how much those words mean to me.  You said that;  you really said that!  Amazing!

The other thing that happened was at dinner that same night.  We have had a different flavour of cordial lately, and you decided it is the wrong colour and you would not drink it.  So earlier that day I bought you the flavour/colour that is familiar to you, and made up a small jug of cordial just for you, so you didn't have to have water when the rest of us had cordial at the dinner table.  You babbled a few things, and then asked for 'poodiyoh' as we have been practicing lately.  But when I reached for the little jug instead of the usual one your cordial is served in, you quietly but clearly said;  "I don't want that", and made me put it down again.

Your aunty happened to drop by and had stayed for dinner with us, and you should have seen her face.  It reflected just exactly what I felt inside;  gobsmacked, delighted surprise.  But instead, I responded to you as I might respond to one of the girls when they say something like that;  "Oh, you don't want that one honey?  But it doesn't matter what the jug looks like, it's what's inside that matters.  This is the cordial you like.  Let me pour it for you".  You let me.

My son, you made my day, you made my night.  You will never know how much your beautiful words mean to me.

Those two sentences that day are so much more than mere words.  They tell me that you understand what is going on around you, more than I often give you credit for.  They tell me that you have more words in your head than you can get your mouth to make.  They tell me you know how to put together a sentence, even if you can't make it come out of your mouth, or on the iPad.  And they tell me that the ability to speak is there, even if it is still very tiny and you are struggling with it a lot right now.

You totally blew my mind with these things, and I am so in love with you my darling boy.

One more thing honey;  Did you know that your name means 'Ever ruler' or 'Always conquerer' ?  Well it does.  And I don't think it is by accident that we named you this.  I remember praying over you when you were but a day old in the hospital.  In my arms I held you, and began to pray a blessing.  But then I found that I was praying things like 'overcomer' and 'conquerer' and that God would be with you on the hard road before you.  I remember stopping in shock at the things I was saying, and my heart cried out No!  No!  This is not what I want for him!  Why am I praying this?  But it seems my spirit somehow knew what my mind never could at that time.  I wept and cried and wondered what on earth it all meant.  It took nearly two years before we knew.  But here you are my son, overcoming, conquering, little by little.  And I know God is with you.

Don't you ever forget that.  He knows exactly how your brain works, and exactly what is going on inside.  He knows everything about you - everything you can't tell me, He knows.  And He will always be there for you, even when I can't be.

I love you to pieces my little Mr Man.  And you will grow handsome, and strong, and kind, and clever.  You made me proud yesterday, and I just wanted you to know that.


With love beyond forever,

Mum  xx

Letter To Kinder Parents

This was distributed just yesterday.  I hope it goes over well.

Dear friend, 

My name is Erik, and I am in the Pink group at  ********  PreSchool.  You may have noticed that I am a bit different to my peers.  That’s because I have Autism Disorder.

Autism is a condition that affects communication, social skills and behaviour/play.  

Right now, I still can’t speak - I have no words yet.  So it is very hard for me to let my friends and teachers know what I want or need.  I can get frustrated, upset and confused.  Instead, I might try to scream, make a loud noise, push or pull someone to try and show them what I mean.  My mum keeps reminding me that I will find my words one day, so I keep trying.  In the meantime, it helps when people are patient with me, and understanding of my behaviour.

I really struggle to understand things that are new and different. I am still learning the rules at kinder, and still learning rules about life too.  I don’t always understand instructions, or how to wait for a turn, or how to sit properly for mat time or to eat.  I find it hard to share my space sometimes, and I can feel very anxious if another child cries or shouts.  My teachers and parents are helping me learn how to handle all of this, but it might take me a bit longer than most other kids.

I do sometimes like to be around other children, but I don’t know how to make friends or play a game together.  It helps when someone can play alongside me, or when an adult can show me how to play, help me share or take turns. 

The world is a big and confusing place for me, and for this reason, I don’t always realise that I am in danger.  I might try to put dangerous things in my mouth. Or I sometimes try to run out through open doors and across roads and carparks.  I can’t swim and don’t understand danger around water.  It helps when doors are kept shut and locked, but if you see me try to run away without my mum, dad or teacher, please help me stay safely indoors!

I love tickles, songs and music, and my favourite colour is red.  I love to climb, jump, play on swings and go down a slide.  I like to play ring-a-rosie, and run around with other kids.  I love puzzles, bead frames, peg boards and blocks.  I am learning how to throw and catch a ball, and I am just starting to understand how wonderful the alphabet and numbers are. I also like cuddles with mum or other people I know, even though I don’t know how to give a hug.  If I like someone, I show them by leaning against them.  

I hope that if you work in my room you can be understanding and open to my unique needs and abilities.  It might also help if you can talk to your child and let them know that I am different in some ways, and that it’s ok to be different.  Please also remember that I am just like any other child trying to find my way in the world and be happy.

Thank you for reading my letter, and I hope to meet you at kinder!

Erik  

xx