There’s still oddities, quirks and a bucketload of medical issues. Biomed got us to recovery, hopefully classical homeopathy will fill in the gaps. If not, May will still be an amazing girl albeit a little bit quirky. But hey, that’s what makes life so interesting right? The people who think outside the box, who view life in different ways, who are creative and inventive.
At the moment, I can’t tell what are quirks and what are echoes and remnants of Autism. But in my heart, I know there’s still some fine-tuning needed. But, I’ll gladly have the quirks and oddities if it means she gets her health back. For my greatest wish is for May to be healthy. We will see what is left after all is said and done.
For I want May to realise her fullest potential, to have all the advantages she can get. For she started her life with so many disadvantages already, she needs all the tools I can give her to prepare her for life. Hopefully a happy and fulfilling life.
I celebrate May for who she is, quirks and all. Her sensitivity, intuition, depth of emotion, individuality and complexity makes her this unique little personality that the world is lucky to have. I pray her new school, teachers and classmates will appreciate just how amazing she is. For May is smart and full of courage. But within the strength, there is a vulnerability to her. A fragility that makes me want to hold her in my arms forever, to protect her from the big bad world. An urge I fight every single day. For in order for her to soar, I have to let her fly.
I look at her and I’m breathless with how much she has accomplished in her little life. How inspiring she is to countless families. How much more richer she has made my life.
For I wouldn’t trade this for the world. My love for her is a huge glowing mass of light, spreading warmth throughout my being. Whenever I hug her, the warmth envelopes her too. I hope she can feel it, I hope she will understand just how much her mummy loves her. I have never resented a single minute toiled, a single dollar spent nor a single tear shed throughout this journey with Autism. Motherhood wasn’t what I thought it would be. But it is richer and more vibrant than I ever imagined.
Next week May will start Year 1. Her first day at the big school. A school which we chose not to disclose May’s previous diagnosis. Will her new teacher be kind and compassionate? Will she make friends with her classmates?
Can May really make it in the big mainstream school or was the recovery another cruel joke the universe played on us? Have we been deluding ourselves, giving ourselves pats on the back, bragging that May is recovered from Autism because she speaks wonderfully. Because she did well in her itty bitty kindergarten. Will May fall from grace because my pride and ego blinded me to her shortcomings? I try to stamp down my fears and anxiety, but the tangle of complex emotions won’t unravel just yet. Fierce mama indeed, I feel more like a tangle of limp noodles…..
Next week, I will hold her hand tightly as we walk to her class on the first day of school. I will try to hold back the tears when she pulls her hand away from mine. To sit in the classroom with 21 other children and a brand new teacher in a brand new school. My husband will pull me away and walk us to the car. For school is now in session and the parents must now leave the class.
Together, we will wait in silent vigil nearby. Too afraid to drive away too far, in case the school calls us to come back for her for some reason. I will lay my head on my husband’s strong shoulder, anxiety and worry heavy in my heart. Autism diagnosis or not, the first day of school is always nerve wrecking. Perhaps in this instance, it’s harder for me than for May, for she is excited to start in her new big school.
Yet in the midst of all the anxiety, I am proud of how far my Warrior Princess has come. Next week, I will help her put on her new school uniform, a tad too big on her skinny frame. I will kiss her head as I brush her curly hair and tie it neatly back. She will hold her head high, brand new pink backpack on her thin shoulders and a smile on her face. Just a little bit closer to a chance at a normal life.
Yes, the story doesn’t end at recovery…..
Though this excellently written article below is all about how Autism Mums rock, how we’re all fierce mamas, this mama is a little bit nervous, a little bit fragile and a little bit anxious. Perhaps, once May is settled in her new school, my inner fierceness will emerge once again.
So for all the Fierce Mamas out there, battling Autism every single day, keep on rocking!