When our worlds collide

I fell in love with my children long before they were born. I will never ever forget that moment I first held them skin to skin. There was a bond that I felt could never ever be broken. I felt they were a part of me from the moment I found out I was pregnant. I loved feeling them move and kick and hearing their little hearts beat at every check up. I was connected to them. Our worlds were one and we would always be close.

Then autism entered my family.

That is not my sons fault in any way. I don’t resent him or blame him but I, as his mother, need to work so much harder to connect with him.

He lives in another world to me and I admit I have,at times, cried over that. I want that bond we had when I first held him. I want that special connection of looking at his eyes and seeing into his soul. I want to hear his voice, cuddle him, stroke his hair and share life with him.

imageHe prefers to look out windows, flap at lift doors and laugh at hand dryers.

Some days we are like strangers living in the same house. I meet his needs, he does what he wants. I create a routine and he follows along just because it is what we do here. Eye contact is fleeting, often non-existent. Words are never used. Body contact is on his terms and never conventional. When we try to understand each other it is like we speak in different languages or live in different planets. I try my way, he tries his way and often we both end up upset.

So when moments come along I throw caution to the wind and go for it in any way I can.

Today while on a train journey he sat beside me and we had some physical contact that did not mean climbing on my head or hitting me. We just sat beside each other. That was it. I felt like I was right back there the day he was born looking down at him filled with love and wonder and pride. A short moment in time when our worlds met and our hearts collided. Unity.

Later on as we got off that train and headed back to the car he did something so rare it took my breath away. He reached out and held my hand. Touch brings healing, restoration and love. He sought me out. He knew who I was and he wanted to know I was there. He did something other parents take for granted but something that is rare in my world. A short moment; two worlds coming together, no words needed.

Tonight as I bathed him, dried him, and met his physical needs I knew our bond was different yet still strong. Unlike his sister who spends bath time chatting, sharing and playing, he spends it simply splashing and retreating into his own world.

I read him his story, the same one I always do, but tonight there was no vocalising, or flapping, or pointing. Those little moments of coming into my world today had tired his mind and his emotions.

The irony is he is so fiercely independent yet completely dependent at the same time. He wants to be left alone yet he can never be left alone. He wants to live in his own world and I am the one continually trying to change that. It’s like the more he gives to me the more he has to be back in that bubble again for safety. He had had enough tonight. But I hadn’t. He was ready to be put down in that baby crib in the hospital to sleep and I was longing to hold him that little bit longer all over again.

I kissed him. I tucked him in and then I went to leave the room. Except I couldn’t.

So I broke my own rule and climbed in beside him. I expected him to scream, to push me away and wrap himself in his cover like he always does.

Instead he wrapped his chunky arms around me, snuggled in and smiled at me. He fell asleep right there in my arms, just like he did the day he was born seven years and five months previously.

I may never hear his thoughts and worries. I may never truly understand his sensory needs or fascinations. I can’t be autistic like he is.

But tonight I was right back there hearing his little heart beat and promising him the world.

Today, for brief moments in time, our worlds collided.

A moment is all it takes to connect.

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I am that mother

Today I have the honour of hosting my first EVER guest blog in celebration of Mother’s Day. Geraldine writes on her Facebook page It’s me Ethan and on her blog Geraldine Renton.

This blog originally appeared Here. Go check her out!

imageI am her.
I am that mother that you spy out in the shopping centre dragging a child kicking and screaming.
I am that mother that follows her son while he is running around the park or the playground; yes a helicopter mother- that’s me!
I am that mother that apologies after my son has pushed, kicked or hit your child. I do try to get to my son before he hits but sometimes I am simply not fast enough.
I am that mother that catches your eye because she is singing a nursery rhyme badly and loudly to a child who is trying to hit her.
I am that mother who has dropped to the floor in the middle of a queue in good ‘ol ‘Pennys’ and rocked her son.
I am that mother who has thrown her shopping bags, pushed past you and ran off screaming “ETHAN”.
I am that mother that looks tired…ALL THE TIME.
I am that mother that smiles at your little toddler while they are showcasing their tantrums for all to see.
I am that mother that stops to speak to your child, who happens to be clapping loudly sitting while in his wheelchair.
I am that mother that holds the door for you because the damn door will slam as you try to push your child’s buggy or wheelchair out of it.
I am that mother that picks up your bags because you had to give chase unexpectedly to a toddler who saw something shiny.
I am that mother who see’s your child is having a meltdown and not a tantrum; I’m the one who moves dangerous objects away, talks to your other kids and then disappears.
I am that mother who stares right back at you when you are discussing my child’s behaviours.
I am that mother that has thanked you for all your help; which amounts to staring and pointing, let’s not forget ‘tutting’.
I am that mother who never seems to be embarrassed when their child is throwing (what may appear to be to the untrained eye) a sh!t fit over a bag.

I am that mother that asks you “Can I help?” while your child is screaming, kicking, biting and your other children are just standing still, not knowing what to do, but knowing enough to stand back and to wait.
I am that mother that smiles at you and reminds you to “hang in there”; while your toddler is asking 50 questions, your other child begging for a new toy and your newborn crying.
I am that mother that smiles at your little family as you walk past mine.
I am that mother who is just like you; only different.
I am a mother to three wonderful boys.
Ethan introduced me to the world of ‘mother’.He is my eldest son, yet in our little world he is also my youngest.
Ethan has a syndrome that takes and takes; it will eventually take his life.
Ethan has shown me how easy it is to judge other people, especially parents. He has shown me ‘all may not be what it seems’ – he has shown me a perspective which I feel a lot of us, in our daily lives forget…
This Mother’s Day, remember every single mammy you see is doing her best.
Smile at each other,
Share a look that says ‘I’ve been there too’
Hold that door open,
Pick up the damn bag,
Smile through the tantrums/meltdowns that you see…
Afterall, we are all mothers, some of us are just a little different.