Momming: A Guest Post

A guest post by Erin McMahon, M.S., BCBA, LBA and Mom

Dear Sweet Girl,

Thank you for being my child. You completed our family, made me a mother of two. You changed who I am and how I see the world- how I see other kids and how I view education. You inspire me.

I wouldn't have ordered a kid with autism if I had the choice seven long years ago. I wouldn't order anyone who wasn't you now. I existed pretty cluelessly in the neurotypical world. Things are easier there, or at least more predictable. And I love predictable- making lists, planning everything, following the rules. Except the rules didn't work with you. With your sister, the warning of a time out would curb any thought of “bad” behavior but with you this respected and recommended strategy was a joke.

I doubted my abilities as your parent. I went to see your pediatrician, an older man who listened and told me to set firmer boundaries and lay down the law. You vetoed that law. You were a mystery, always with me but somehow unreachable.

I was so scared, on alert every minute of every day. You didn't sleep so I didn't sleep. You ran away whenever it was possible- out the front door and toward the road. We installed a deadbolt on the front door that required a key to open, we put another lock on the top of the sliding door into the backyard. We got a fence. We explained over and over again that you had to stay where you were supposed to be. It didn't help.

Your speech was odd, but it existed. I continued to seek answers. They weren't coming. I called a developmental pediatrics practice and secured an appointment- in 18 months. I called another practice, developmental psychologists, but during that time, you became eligible for preschool, so we asked for and received a CPSE referral and evaluation.

Then preschool happened, and everything changed. Instead of trying to make you learn in the ways that were typically used, you had teachers and therapists who found what worked for you and used it. You started telling me I did a nice job when I completed simple tasks, because that's what was being modeled at school. At your first conference I met Stephanie, your ABA teacher and now my close friend. The first thing she ever said was, “it's so nice to meet you. I'm Stephanie, and I love your daughter so much!” I could tell that she really did love you. My reservations about putting you on a bus for about an hour each way to go to school every day faded.

Your first teacher retired during your initial year of preschool, and again I was scared. You were doing so well. Your new teacher was so young. But Kristin was exactly who you needed- she loved you from the moment she met you. And then she called me and said you were doing so well, they wanted permission to move you to an integrated class. Kristin would be teaching the new class, and she advocated for you to go with her. During that year we finally got a diagnosis- atypical PDD-NOS, which placed you on the autism spectrum. But by that time, thanks to CPSE and the people who helped us understand the process, you were already getting the services you needed and it was a code on paper, not surprising and nothing to grieve over.

Your first year of preschool was amazing. But your second year was miraculous. You thrived with access to typically developing peer models.  Friends, field trips, conversations, play dates, all the dreams I had for you that were put on hold were now happening. There were challenges along the way, and not everyone we encountered was a Stephanie or a Kristin. You told one therapist you didn't like her because of her mean face. But you used awesome words to express your feelings!

When it was time for kindergarten, we pushed to have you placed in a co-teach class. I walked you across the street and watched as you settled into your classroom with a giant smile on your face and no tears. I can't say there were no tears in my eyes. See, when we bought this house I had visions of walking you across the street to the kindergarten building, like I had done with your sister. For a long time I didn't know if that would happen or if you would be placed in a different class in a different building.

After your first day of school, Kristin called to see how it went. Stephanie texted to ask how you did. It was the first day of school for them too, but you're such a special kid that they wanted to hear how awesome it was. You still have room in their big hearts.

You started dance classes last year, at the same place where your sister and cousin dance. And you did great! My phone shook as I recorded your recital performance because I couldn't hold back the emotions. I was, and still am, so proud of you.

Some of your social skills are better than mine. You will approach other kids to compliment their clothes, ask about their toys, to ask if you can play with them. You ask strangers if you can pet their dogs. Once, you even asked a mom if you could please pet her baby. Maybe you aren't quite typical, but you sure are awesome. Sometimes you get frustrated and stomp your feet when I ask you to take a minute and refocus. A few years ago, you would have bitten me. I'll take the foot-stomps anytime, and then I'll praise you for using a good strategy. Stomping never hurt anyone.

I also got something back that was on the back burner for awhile: hope for things to come. You have real, genuine friendships. One of your friends already said he wants to marry you when you guys grow up! You have sleepovers and you FaceTime with your friends. You are so proud of yourself when you accomplish something. You clearly state your opinions. You are hilarious. Your life is important and meaningful.

So why are you doing so well while so many kids with similar challenges are having a tough time? Well, this isn't an easy answer.

Our family is middle class. Your dad and I are married, we have college educations, we own our home. We can both speak in a way that makes others take us seriously. And although we struggle with some things, there will always be plenty of food in the house and pretty clothes and shoes for you to wear. We can access medical care and if we think there's a better solution out there, we can get second and third opinions. We love each other and we love you and your sister more than you'll ever know. If we get angry or anxious or overwhelmed, you have aunts and uncles and grandparents that would watch you and love you for a couple of hours while we get our heads on straight. If your class needs snacks or party supplies or crayons, we go buy them and we don't have to worry about not being able to afford something else, like the power bill. We haven't had to deal with addiction or violence in the home or any of the many challenges some of your friends’ families face. We are so, so lucky.

So sometimes, my precious child, Mommy is going to be doing work at home while you're cuddled up with your books or playing a game with your sister. Sometimes, you might see your Mommy feeling sad- and it is never your fault but it is all related to and because of you and your sister (who takes her privacy quite seriously these days, leading me to be careful with what I share about her) and the world we live in.

See, I want a school, community, and a world for you guys where everyone has a chance. Some moms and dads don't have the support and the opportunities we have. Many of the families juggle bigger crisis and stress than we do. Their heartbreaks are unimaginable at times.

You've inspired me to go back to school and work in a field that can change kids’ lives. Complaining doesn't help kids, doesn't help anything, it doesn't give them a chance to be successful. I need to do everything I can to be a part of the changes I think we need to make.

We live in this community where education is a very high priority. Our schools have leaders who want you all to do great things. Already, you have some of the best and most caring teachers and staff I've ever met. Now I get to be a part of this team and I take this responsibility seriously. We have some things that we need to change and we have some things to celebrate. We need to work together, and we all have the same goal: to do everything possible to make every child be as successful and amazing as they can possibly be. And some kids learn differently and some need different things, but that doesn't make them any less deserving of a top-quality experience in school.

You have given me the perspective and experience to make really awesome things happen.

In return for that amazing gift, I'm going to do my part to give as much of the support and genuine kindness I've received to your peers.