So, What?

For the last six months or so there’s been a word invading my headspace, my home, my family, and my life. That word is Autism.  About a month after Ellanor started speech therapy, the therapist along with her Pediatrician and myself (to be honest) were having concerns that maybe she had more than a speech and language delay.  And, so began the testings and referrals. After each assessment, as the professionals looked to Nick and I with tilted heads, soft eyes and sorry smiles, my heart would sink and I would leave feeling utterly defeated.

I spent the last months going through sort of a grieving process I guess you could say. There have been times where I am in complete denial. Times where I am filled with so much rage I want to stick both middle fingers up to the sky and say FUCK THE WORLD AND EVERYONE IN IT. Then there are times when I can’t stop crying. Every song on the radio, every child I see playing, every person I talk to about it, every time Ellanor flaps or walks on her tip toes, I cry and cry and cry. And then, like a jolt of sudden energy, I am optimistic and I am reading and learning and involving myself in everything Autism just for this vicious cycle to repeat itself. It has been exhausting to say the least and the funniest part is that she hasn’t even received a diagnosis yet.

For a long while, I was feeling very sorry for myself. Everyone I would talk to would share their thoughts on the matter usually with an agreement that “It must be hard” and “I’m so sorry you’re going through this” and “I think she will be fine” as if having autism means you are not “fine”.  All of these conversations I feel had loving intentions but they would only affirm to me that I was indeed a victim and had a right to this self-pity state I was in. But, like every time in my life where I’ve felt like I was drowning, God always throws me something to float on and this time it was in the form of two words that came from what I will call an earth angel.

I hadn’t seen this earth angel in a very long time and while we were doing the typical “So good to see you, how have you been!?”  I started in on my pity party by telling her all about Ellanor possibly having autism. At first, she didn’t say anything. Just looked at me and watched as my face got hot and my eyes welled with tears about to spill and that is when she said the two most beautiful words I have ever heard, “So, what?”

She was relaxed, not smiling at all, but also not cold at all. She truly, warm-heartedly, thought, so what if she has autism?  The blunt response took me by surprise and I nearly choked as I laughed, tears rolling down my face. I nodded my head crying, smiling, and agreeing.

“Yeah,” I said, “You’re so right.”

After that conversation, those two simple yet powerful words have become my mantra and I started thinking…

So what if she learns a little differently?

So what if she colours outside the lines?

So what if she spins herself into silliness and laughs hysterically by herself while looking up at the ceiling? *we need more people like this in my opinion*

So what if she isn’t considered to be developing or playing or behaving normally like her peers? What is normal anyway?

So what if she is diagnosed with Autism? Or ADHD or Anxiety or OCD or ODD or any other “disorder” they come up with.

What if she grows up and says she is gay or transgender? So What.

So what, so what, so what.

My love for her is unconditional. It is unchangeable, unstoppable, Almighty.

And, while I continue on this journey not knowing what the future holds, I will try my best to have this so what attitude and mindset.  Because, as of right now, so long as we have our health and our love, nothing else matters.

❤

xo,

alyssa

Just Another Manic Monday

She’s crying again. Ellanor. She’s teething, I think.

I pick her up and let her nurse but after a couple sucks she’s doesn’t want it anymore and is back to crying. I bounce her. I walk around the living room doing half lunges trying to avoid stepping on the crayons and blocks that are scattered through out the floor from yesterday’s tantrum. The neighbours probably think I’m crazy. She cries louder. I bounce faster whispering “shh…shh…shh” over and over.

Malakai hands me the remote. She wants Barney – again. I’m so sick of Barney. I try for Daniel Tiger instead, fiddling the remote in one hand, bouncing and shushing Ellanor in the other. The intro song to Daniel Tiger comes on and Malakai hits the floor with a smack. Her tiny two year old limbs mimic thick spaghetti noodles as she cries her famous words “no, no, no”.

Please, Lord, not today.

It’s okay, I remind her, it’s time for breakfast anyway. I put Bee back down and give her something to chew on. That should keep her quiet for at least 3 minutes. I step over my flailing Toddler and go into the kitchen where I grab my coffee cup, nuzzle it in my two hands – it’s still warm – I close my eyes and down the entire thing like a swift shot of vodka. Breathe in,  breathe out, step over last nights macaroni + cheese stuck to the floor, rummage through the dishwasher to find a bowl because why would there be any in the cupboard where they belong? Why would any be clean, even? I rinse out the cleanest dirty bowl I can find. Fuck it. Good enough. Pour some yogurt in there, plop some blueberries in and breakfast is served.

I pick Malakai up off the floor though she wriggles and kicks and continues to protest with the most annoying “noooooo” in the world. I fight her into her chair, buckle, click – I win. She screeches and throws the bowl of berries + yogurt across the table. I smile and calmly tell her breakfast is important and remind her she’ll be hungry later if she doesn’t eat. How I managed to stage a sweet, patient voice frightened me. Who was this person?

Ellanor’s had enough now, she’s crying yet again so I go and pick her up, throw her on one hip and walk back into the kitchen. Malakai is kicking the table and repeating “no,no,no” but I just ignore her and open the utensil drawer, pull out a spoon and dig into the tube of yogurt on the counter. I stuff my mouth, swallowing gulps, ingesting as fast as I can before walking and bouncing my teething baby to sleep.

Finally, Ellanor is heavy in my arms and I unbuckle Malakai from her high chair and help her down. We go into the living room and she is horrified to find Daniel Tiger still on. Slam. Her body hits the floor again. Ellanor wakes up from the sound and I am now an outsider looking in. I watch myself as I walk sedately over to the television and turn it off. I hear more crying but I don’t know where it’s coming from. Both I assume.

I sit down on the couch, pull out my boob from my robe and nurse Ellanor back to sleep. Malakai climbs onto the couch letting out muffled whimpers through her hand that’s crammed in her mouth. Her face is red and wet with tears and I feel my eyes swelling and burning. But I don’t cry. Instead, I sit motionless, baby sucking on one side, two year old curled up in the fetal position, her little arms wrapped around my free one on the other side.

I stare blankly at the piles of clean clothes that lay wrinkled and unfolded on the dining room table and briefly I wish that I was somewhere else. Someone else, even. Oddly, I remember what we tell kindergartens at school to do when they get upset – blow bubbles. I blow hard forcing an exhalation that’s followed by a deep inhale.

I try again.

And again.

I am 5 years old. I am sitting here. Self soothing. Comforting others with no one to comfort me.

The flashback and self pity hit me hard and my chest tightens. I want to escape. I want to run away. I want to drink an entire bottle of wine and get really really high. But then, as if God had finally seen my invisible white flag waving viciously in the air, my mind was silenced by the silence.

No more crying. No more whining. Not even a sniffle. Just pure, sacred silence.

I check to see if Malakai had fallen asleep but I see her eyelashes glitter. She gets up momentarily, repositioning herself into my body and then tilts her head back and up so she can see me. I meet her teary-eyed gaze and she smiles. My chest tightens again but this time it’s my heart mending, not breaking. She snuggles up, gives my arm a long, hard squeeze and gently kisses my wrist. A knowing feeling washes over me. I kiss her on the top of her head, close my eyes and together we breathe in the stillness.

Everything is going to be okay.