Something More

When you first find out that your child has autism, you go through a series of emotions.  There is an actual grief cycle that parents go through upon learning that their child has a diagnosis, and that cycle involves denial, anger, bargaining, and acceptance.  It also involves blame, although you probably won't read about that much in a textbook.  Parents often question themselves, especially mothers:  Did I do this to my child somehow?  Did I give them something to eat that they shouldn't have eaten?  Did I do something wrong when I was pregnant?  Maybe I didn't hug them enough?  Perhaps I shouldn't have slathered sunscreen on top of their head?

Pretty soon the parents realize that they didn't do this to their child and that's when they get angry and try to find some other explanation, because it's very human to want explanations for devastating things in our lives.  I did this too.  The sunscreen was my personal question.  We were at the beach the summer Logan was two, and I did put sunscreen all over his head, and afterwards wondered if that had something to do with it.  Logically, of course, I know it didn't.  But you can't pass judgments on people in these situations. People want answers, and with this disorder, there really aren't any.

Did I get through that grief cycle?  Yes.  I think it's obvious that I did.  I moved on. I accepted it.  I wrote about it, of course.  I researched.  I started a support group.  I stopped being angry, because anger doesn't help you, and it can stop you from giving your child what they need, which is a focused, involved parent.  Autism is not your child. Autism is something they have, that you have to learn to accept and live with.  So we did.

However, I have a confession to make.  This blog was intended to be used honestly.  There are scores of parents out there in my situation, who think they are alone, so I promised myself I would write about what no one would talk about.  So, with my son's admittance to the state hospital, I find myself getting swallowed up in that grief cycle again.  It's now not about accepting his autism, it's about how well I managed it.  And I find myself going back over the years, again and again, wondering what else I could have done, what I could have tried, perhaps if I had been more patient, or tried a certain kind of therapy, or done something.  I should have done something more. That's what I keep coming back to, is that elusive something more.

I know I didn't cause Logan's autism, or his other co-morbid disorders.  But I am stuck in the notion that I could have handled his disorders better.  I am stuck with the idea that I didn't do enough.  A friend of mine cried for me the other night and asked, shouldn't there be a magic pill, or something?  And I think, absolutely, there should.  There should be a magic pill or a secret plan or a gateway to another dimension or a Tardis or something,  There should be something.  But there's not.

There is nothing more, except this time period of waiting, and hoping that he can come home again.