Project: Mom

I've been a work in progress ever since I got pregnant in December of 93. Six months after getting married to a Guy I had known for three months.

We had the world on a string when our second one came along just a short 13 months after the first baby. Heck, we were young and unafraid. What could go wrong? We were smart enough and educated enough to tackle anything.

By the time our second was 18 months old, we were ready for baby number three.

The warning signs that there were delays with Tyler were already cropping up but we were confident. Everyone agreed with us that he was smart and so we shouldn't worry. "He'll grow out of it", was what we were told and we used that phrase to beat back our fears.

Halfway through the pregnancy we finally started talking about the "A" word. We saw the genetic statistics online and the fear for the third baby started growing with every passing month.

Tyler was diagnosed officially by Bryna Siegel at 3 yrs. I was breastfeeding, literally, when she gave me the good news.

Nine months later I could see the autism in Spencer's eyes and that's when I knew we were really in for a bumpy ride.

We switched from the world on a string to a tiger by the tail in a handful of months.

This whole experience has been the hottest of refiner's fires for me. I am a very different mother than I ever intended to be.

Along the way, I could feel pieces of my original plan break off and fall by the way side. The intended experiences that I was counting on having with my family were shelved. The trips and holidays, the birthdays and words, emotions and expectations of positive feedback all postponed.

I had to learn how not to need them anymore. Life with autism requires your "A" game, no pun intended, and the sooner you can figure out how to grieve productively, the better everything is.

I ended up learning to make do with different. I learned how to rejoice in slivers of joy instead of great big slices that are too big to consume. I have learned to savor small victories won after months and even years of effort. I tolerate giving enormous effort without positive feedback. I am weary, that's fer darn sure, but I'm still standing.

I feel quietly resolute for having made it this far. Proud that I have battled well for 12 years with very little flinching. I turn 40 this year and I CAN say that I am pleased of the woman I have become and glad that I can give this gift to my boys every day.