This is Hard

*Editor's note: I'm writing about something I swore I never would within this post. Please understand that I'm doing this not for people to tell me, "I'm sorry," but to make other parents raising autistic children know that this happens to some of us, too. 

I'm jealous of my son's school. Of the teachers, paras, aides, lunch ladies... every damned one of them who see him day in and day out. Why, you might ask?

Because some days I feel like that school gets to see the best of my son.

School is highly regimented and Morgan loves rules. He thrives on them. The color code system of behavior is something he responds well to and he wants his peers to think well of him. At school, he is, I think, "on."

"Morgan held the door open for me today, I just had to tell you that!" "Oh, you're Morgan's mom? He's such a darlin'!" "Morgan's so funny, such a rule follower!"

Yes, he is all of those things. At school.

At home, 80% of the time, he's those things, too. But since he's in his safety zone, he feels free to fully melt down. To lash out. At me. And that hurts me. Literally.

I love my son and I have no doubt that he loves me. We tell each other that constantly and hug a lot.

He loves me so much that I am the person he feels the most comfortable lashing out physically at and then comes to me, while I'm still shaking, and needs to be rocked.

It's rare, but it happens. We both cry, shocked that this swirling dervish has just consumed him again out of no where, but it came from somewhere, as we both know. We try to calm ourselves, him first, me later, and press on.

This is trust, this lashing out only at me, I've been told. I'm thankful it doesn't happen to anyone else, but I'm resentful that no one else "gets" it.

He can be rude. He can be hostile. At homework time, I'm walking on eggshells. I never know what to expect.

Weekends are different. He loves his train movies and going places- freedom.

But during the week? I'm nervous for the landmines that I could trip on.

And it's not his fault, nor mine.

I love my child, autism and all.

But, damn.

This is hard.

A Letter to Morgan's NT Friends

To my son's school friends,

Please don't ever change.

You, my dears, are the epitome of acceptance, kindness, compassion, and beyond.

You treat Morgan as if he is just like you. A kid. Because he is.

You seek to help him when he's over stimulated, sad, or when he wants to learn a new game, like four square. I hear that you even give him "second chances" for that game, though the other kids aren't allowed those.

If you're his work partner, you help him with the subject you're working on. I love hearing about that. Morgan tells me who helps him out in class and he always ends those discussions with, "he's/she's my friend and a very useful engine!" That's high praise, as you know.

You protect him from ridicule when I cannot. You make it abundantly clear that he isn't an object to be made fun of, but a friend to be loved.

When he stims or scripts, you don't look at him oddly. You don't judge him. You just accept and move on. But thanks for letting me know he scripts Family Guy at school.

Every time I walk down your halls, you run up to me for hugs and excitedly tell me if Morgan is having a great day. If his day isn't so great, you tell me how you're helping him or how the teacher(s) helped.

You don't shy away from his hugs, compliments, arm squeezes or funny sayings. This makes him comfortable around you. Him being comfortable has allowed him to really come out of his shell this year.

I love coming to eat lunch with all of you. That you ask respectful questions about Morgan and autism, and are genuinely interested, warms my heart. I love that you want to know why Morgan does things a certain way, scripts, stims, bounces, and is obsessed with Thomas. I love it even more that, when I explain it to you, I see seven or more heads bobbing as if to say, "this makes perfect sense."

You genuinely care about him, that's evident.

When "J" told me, "I think Morgan's brain is the coolest ever. You know, the way he can memorize stuff? He's the best at remembering spelling words and lines from movies," all I could think was "God bless you, kiddo. You get it."

When I saw him overstimulated last week after the performance, it worried me. That is, until I saw a group of you girls hugging his shoulders, talking in low voices to him, and running your hands through his hair. Morgan purred like a cat and thanked you. It was something I would have done and you girls have obviously seen his para or me calming him down in school and wanted to help your friend.

You girls spoil him rotten. I'm always finding little notes or treats from y'all in his backpack. Instead of thinking he's odd for dishing out compliments to you all of the time, you all say, "Aw! Thank you, Morgan!" and then tell me how polite and sweet he is.

I don't worry about sending Morgan to school every day like I used to. I don't worry about him getting bullied. He has you kids. You are part of his school team - the best part. While Morgan loves his grown up team, who are teaching him, you kids are the ones who are teaching him how to be a carefree kid and do typical kid things. I can't buy that kind of therapy.

Do you know how rare you kids really are? How many of us parents wish for kids like you for kids like mine? This reflects great parenting and a great school environment, but most importantly, a great heart and a wonderful mind. You don't have to go so far above and beyond common decency, and yet, you do it daily. How cool are you for that? Y'all are what I've always imagined social inclusion would look like.

One day, you're going to be grown ups. Don't ever lose the compassion you're showing for people like Morgan.

You will have other Morgans in your life, treat them just like you've treated him- with dignity, respect, and kindness. Be their friends always. The Morgans in this world needs the people like you if only for a friend... And you need them.

You kids are the best of the best. Thank you so much.

~Mrs. Jessi

Morgan's Mom