GBE Challenge: Growing Wild

Here's my challenge for this week. The picture below with the topic "Growing Wild".

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! Did someone take a snapshot of my life? Am I on a hidden camera? This family wrote the book on all things wild!

When our older son was first diagnosed with autism, I went through a period of denial. Oh, I knew he had issues, but even though he was nonverbal, didn't point to a darned thing in his life and barely looked me in the eyes, I wasn't buying his diagnosis.

"Well, he may SPIN things, but that's only because he's curious about how they works," I'd argue.

"He knows his name! He's just too BUSY to answer to it." That excuse was my personal favorite.

I suppose it is natural. My husband was doing his own processing and one day passed along to me something he had read with regard to autism. It was a story of a father walking along an endless patch of beach with his son, a child living with autism. The child loved the freedom of the ocean, and he took off running as soon as his feet hit the sand. The father said to himself, surely this child is going to turn around soon. Surely he will reference me, my presence, check to see how far away from me he was--acknowledge me in some way.

The child never turned around.

He lacked that social connectivity to even his parent. This is not uncommon among people with autism.

I wondered about our own son at that time. He loved me, didn't he? I know he didn't like to sit in my lap or be held or hugged by me, but, surely he loved me and would want me in his world.

Right?

I felt sorry for the father in the story because, darn it, THAT WAS NOT US! However, as soon as I heard the story, I could not explain it away. I had to test it out. So, I took our boys to a playground with lots of land--LOTS of land. Our son was not quite three, and his brother was a newborn in a stroller. I pulled our toddler out of the stroller, set him down to walk and to see what would happen.

He wasted no time. He ran. He ran hard and fast away from us. I watched and waited as he was headed toward the woods at the back of the property. Here I was with a baby in the stroller, and a child who was not looking back at us. I called his name, but at that time, he didn't answer to his name.

Another mom agreed to watch our younger son while I took off after the older son. And, as I carried him back to the playground equipment, I thought, yes, yes we are exactly like the father and son on the beach.

Today, our son is able to listen to our direction. It has taken eight years of chasing him down in public places to accomplish some sort of compliance on his part. Yet, we have not won the battle. If he wants something enough, he'll break away from us and run like there is no more tomorrow.

That's what I think of when I see this picture. It reminds me of the father and son on the beach or my young family at the playground; however, we now have added a lack of compliance to the equation. Now he knows we are calling, but he doesn't care.

Here in this picture, I can see my children, young in their autism and behaviors, growing, wild and in great need of patient redirecting. If someone were to tell me that this is a place I was about to visit, the first thing I would think of is, oh no, there is a body of water in the distance, and, if I were unlucky enough to land in that field, I have no doubt that our child is going to scream, kick, cry and eventually bolt from us in a compulsive effort to get to the water. It doesn't matter that he can't swim. It doesn't matter that we are calling to him to be careful. He doesn't think of those minor details. Who cares about safety?

By the way, there are bugs that walk, bugs that fly and bugs that buzz and, even worse, NO ELECTRICAL OUTLETS in the meadow! Our younger son would be one big labor of love for us to manage through this environment.

It looks awfully hot for parents running after crazy kids, and where are the bathrooms, anyway? If there are no bathrooms, I am NOT responsible for any naked child that walks into the scene and ruins the peaceful viewing pleasure of others.

To the average person, I'm sure that this meadow looks beautiful. Mentally stepping into those shoes for just one moment, I can imagine leisurely walks among the flowers, or, better still, running with joyful abandon until falling breathless into the sweet summer grass? The wild flowers blossom as I dream of beautiful moments yet to happen.

I don't know any family with autism that lives this life.

This picture looks like a lot of work! No thanks. I think I will walk away from this one, and, taking a cue from our older son, I'm going to elect to not look back as I leave!