It's Not What You Think

Most of the time when people ask you what it’s like to have a child with autism, they don’t really want an answer.  Sometimes they’re showing polite interest, and sometimes, they are just making sure you know that your situation is not one they envy. 

But every now and then I can see the question is sincere.  The person is wondering if I compare my life now to before I had that Olive and think about how much easier things were then.  Did God bestow me with the autistic child and fresh horses of patience simultaneously, somehow making me different from the person asking the question? 

Here is what it’s really like,

I will say.  And if I’m correct and the person really is asking the question honestly, he or she will bear with me on a short excursion that may initially sound off-topic.

* * *

When I was in my early twenties, I lived in Los Angeles and flew in and out of LAX many times.  Back then flying was something almost enjoyable, and I preferred to take flights that arrived in LAX at night.

Planes that come in from the East on nights when the wind is at ten knots or greater go out over the Pacific Ocean on their final approach, and for a minute or so you see nothing but the blackness of the water and sky.  I loved to feel the plane arc and then, suddenly, the city was upon me, its lights muted by red haze.

I bristle when this haze is referred to as “smog,” because that’s not what it is.  There’s something much more complicated going on: weather things like cold air and warm air and inversion and high pressure and the dish-like shape of Los Angeles itself.

Nevertheless, there was a time when I would see all that red, semi-solid matter and think to myself, “I’m going to land in that?  I’m going to breathe that?”  Maybe for a second I looked to the other side of the plane for a glimpse back at the black Pacific.

But then the plane would land and the red haze would quickly become part of the landscape, something I only noticed on clear nights after a rain, and then only because it was temporarily gone.  The rest of the time I lived in the red haze and I breathed it and I worked in it and fell in love in it because Los Angeles is a city unlike any other: it is a vast and lonely crowded sprawl. 

Very quickly, I stopped thinking about the place I left behind.

Comments

[Michelle]

As much as I dislike the expression, I guess it applies to autism here - It is what it is.

Olivia's autism is less acute that Olive's, but it still...makes itself known. Liv was our firstborn, so I don't have a non-autistic motherhood experience to recall fondly. This is and always has been our "normal".

The thing I can't stand is when people tell you "how awesome" you're doing with your kid. Really? What was my other choice?

And on to a lighter subject - Are you gonna make me beg to hear your take on the latest Two and a Half Men kerfuffle? SPILL, WOMAN!

[CrazyMomTats!]

I agree with Michelle. There's no other choice. One day at a time - no heroics, just doing what has to be done.

[(Sarah) Hunter Pearson Silides]

Wow, Jen! I didn't know this was part of your world, too. I once thought it would be a terrible tragedy to have a child with autism. It was on my "I could never handle that..." list along with marrying a man, teaching, living without alcohol, adopting a baby and a pile of other things. The only thing left on that list is home school and if what happened to everything else on that "Never List" is any indication it is just a matter of time before I do home school, too. I've been the mom of a boy with autism for 12 years now. I don't mind the Holland story, but I definitely get the haze analogy. When I step back I ache for my boy just out of fear that he won't experience life as I have. But if I just land my proverbial airplane, he is happy to let me know he does not want my life. He wants his life. And he's getting it. Pain, joy, crazy-hilarious-misunderstandings and all. Now instead of feeling it is a tragedy to be this guy's mom, I say I feel sorry for everybody who doesn't get to live with someone on the spectrum. It must be like living in a house with no mirrors and no windows. If not for the perspective this kid has given me, I wouldn't know myself half so well. Some days, it might be nice not to know some of what I have learned about myself and the world. But knowing makes my whole life more real.

[The Coffee Lady]

Thank God for that. I thought you were going to do the Holland thing.

[Miss Susan]

"Welcome to The City of Angels." Much better than Holland :)

[Michelle]

Ok - what the heck is the Holland thing?

[Stephanie Meyer]

I'm reading Andrew Solomon's new book, Far from the Tree which talks about the Holland thing. It's a story about expecting to travel to Italy but ending up in Holland instead. It's an allegory for things happening in life that you never expected but that you should appreciate for what they are.