What My Son Has Taught Me – Guest Post by Debbie Roppolo

athlete, wikimedia commons

Even while a baby is still in the womb, their future is being planned—perhaps they’ll be a judge, ruler of a country, or that athlete who scores the winning points for their team. And, like all other parents, I too had lofty goals for my child. In the last trimester of pregnancy, I’d decided that my son would be a Pulitzer-prize winning scientist who discovered that the cure for the common cold was chocolate, and to make his maternal grandmother happy, he’s be a NASCAR driver in his spare time. Logically, I hoped that unlike me, he’d be able to walk across the floor and chew gum at the same time.

Of course, things change as the child ages, and though it’s sometimes a hard pill for the parents to swallow, kids develop their own plans for the future. Reality slapped me in the face a few months after my son Joseph celebrated his second birthday. Like switching off a light, his personality changed. Joseph preferred solitude over family and friends, seemed agitated in crowds, and began flapping his arms and spinning…a lot. He had an extensive vocabulary when he was younger, now he was reduced to pointing, grunting, and repeating commercials repetitively. He couldn’t seem to find the words to express his thoughts, his desires, and as a result, there were too many episodes to count involving his meltdowns and my tears.

a young boy with autism who has arranged his toys in a row, wikipedia

A trip to a pediatric specialist confirmed my worst fears. Autism is a neurological disorder that affects 1 in 48 children worldwide, and my son, my precious heart, had it. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office, an emotionally numb lump masquerading as a human, clutching my husband’s hand. My world imploded as phrases like “lack of fine and gross motor skills” and “completely non-verbal”, were tossed at me as easily as a kitten playing with feathers.

In Joseph’s eyes, I was his hero. As an author, I could write my characters out of any situation. As a parent I could kiss away any hurt, cure any illness he might have, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do to take away this disorder.

I could say that I bounced back with tenacity, but it’d be a lie. There were periods of self-blame and tears. Surely there was something I’d missed, a symptom that was obvious to anyone but me. My dreams for Joseph were over—he’d be doing well if he could master a simple conversation.

All my emotions were normal, but I knew if I wanted success for Joseph, I needed to focus and regroup. Finding necessary therapies occupied my time, and taking long walks at night helped to heal my heart.

sunset, www.freestockphotos.biz

During the passage of time, I have learned many things from my child. Never again will I take the small things in life for granted. The setting of the sun leaves Joseph in breathless wonder, and he’s quick to point out the different strips of color that decorate the evening sky. The trail of a solitary raindrop on a windshield is intriguing, and frost sparkling on grasses on a nippy late-autumn morning is magical. And three words “I love you” are something to be cherished—especially when it comes from a child who at one time couldn’t speak.

My precious boy loves animals, objects, and humans with his whole heart, looking past physical appearances and seeing the inner beauty each thing possesses. A few months ago he approached an elderly lady in a local store. Children with autism sometimes have no concept of personal space, and before I could stop him, Joseph ran up to the woman. Putting his fingers in his mouth, he studied the deep lines etched in her sun-darkened face, ones that told of a life filled with worries and hard work. Horrified, I listened as he said matter-of-factly, “You’re real old.”

I stammered, searching for the right words that’d heal the situation. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. I…”

“But you’re real pretty too,” Joseph finished.

Debbie Roppolo

The older lady gave us a toothless grin and adjusted a well-worn hat on her head. “Been awhile since I heard that,” she chuckled. “The part ‘bout being pretty. Might just gonna get me those earbobs I saw in the jewelry department now.”

And Joseph has re-invented the meaning of hope and tenacity. Determined that he will not let his diagnosis define who is, my child has competed in Special Olympics games and won gold medals in bowling and silver in soccer (individual skills). And he’s verbal…sometimes too verbal. Random strangers in the store don’t need to know how much fiber his older brother consumes, nor do they want to know the brand of pantyhose I’m searching for. Though he is only thirteen, his reading comprehension is that of a senior high school student, and he has been deemed gifted in electronics and in science.

In society, the parents are viewed as the teachers, role models, and heroes, but in my eyes, those titles are for someone much more deserving…my son Joseph.

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