I received a phone call yesterday from an extended family member. She was concerned because a doctor had suggested that her son, age three, was probably somewhere on the autism spectrum. This young mom spoke very articulately about her son’s symptoms, like echolalia (the tendency to “echo” back another person’s speech), his inability to connect socially with others, and his aggressive tantrums.
My heart went out to her, because she sounded like me a decade ago. It wasn’t so much what she said, but the worried tone in her voice. I remember having those fears, and I remember the intense desire to somehow “fix” a situation that seemed woefully out of my control. After all, that’s what mothers do—we fix things. We make things all better. We put band-aids on boo-boos. It’s instinctive.
She posed a number of very intelligent questions about dealing with her boy’s problem behaviors. We had a good discussion. And then, somewhat reluctantly, she asked about my thirteen-year-old autistic son, Kyle. “Is he… like regular kids?” she asked. She wanted to know what Kyle was like today. How was he doing? Could I ever envision him getting married? Working? Living on his own?
I knew the troubling question that was hiding behind all these. Deep down, my relative was really asking, “What will my son’s future be?”
Oh, to have a crystal ball…
When Kyle was a young child, the movie Rain Man, starring Dustin Hoffman, was aired on television. I refused to watch it. The well-known academy award-winning film was about an autistic savant (Dustin Hoffman) and his younger brother (Tom Cruise) who reunite after a lifetime of separation. I had heard the fabulous reviews of Mr. Hoffman’s portrayal. Yet, as the parent of an autistic child, did I really want to watch the quirky antics of an autistic adult on screen? More specifically, did I want to see what my son might be like as a grown-up? No. I wasn’t ready for that glimpse into the crystal ball. It terrified me. And yet, part of me was aching to know.
I think it’s perfectly normal to agonize over our children’s future. We love our kids, and we want them to succeed. With special needs children, however, we must re-think our definition of success.
Booker T. Washington has said,
“Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.”
It’s probably a very good thing we can’t see the future. Do any parents really know the destiny of their child? Did Abraham Lincoln’s parents know he would one day be President? Did Helen Keller’s parents realize the impact she would have on the world? Did Stevie Wonder’s parents know that he would transform the history of music? Did my neighbors down the street know that their intelligent, normal child would die suddenly of a brain tumor at the age of four?
We are all along for the ride on the journey of life, facing an unknown tomorrow. Even the doctors and specialists who diagnose our kids don’t know exactly what’s in store. Many children have beaten the odds. Many have surpassed the expectations of their physicians. And tremendous breakthroughs are being made in medical research every day. We have good reason for hope. For now we can only strive to be the best parents we can be, encouraging our kids to achieve to the greatest of their ability. The future will come soon enough; probably much too quickly.
Kristyn Crow is the author of this blog. Visit her website by clicking here.