2010 in Review

On December 11, 2009, the CEO was diagnosed with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) and I felt like our little family unit was silenced with the diagnosis.  I remember hearing the doctor say autism and feeling the blood rush to my head.  The roaring sound of my blood silenced most of her words.  Key words struck like lightening; non-verbal, self-abusive, MR.  I couldn't understand.  What did she mean institutionalize?  My senses were heightened.  It was cold out.  My nose could smell the eminent snowfall, my skin had goosebumps from the chill.  My eyes watered continuously from the bitterness of the air and the bitterness in my heart.  I went home and I could barely speak into the phone and explain to my husband what the doctor had said. He was at work, about to go on the air. My voice kept cracking.  I cleared my throat several times before I could mutter the word, Autism.  I couldn't say anything more without sobbing and my husband had 40 seconds left before the song ended...We hung up with that word hanging between us, Autism.

Things moved so quickly after that.  I remember certain days with a clarity that is striking in the details and some days are a blur. 

On December 25th, my husband and I woke up early to listen to his coworkers' children take over the air waves for the holidays.  It was one of the nicest events of the year.  Since our children had been born, we were waiting for the day that we could hear our little future DJs do their first break.  We were able to appreciate it for about 25 minutes before the reality that our daughters, Bugabuga and the CEO, did not speak and very possibly may never speak.  We held hands each time the mic was opened.  Holding on for dear life.  We needed to turn off the radio but we just couldn't take that step.  Each word fell with the impact of a knife in the heart.  We whispered to each other...next year, next year...they will talk next year...

The frenzy of doctor visits commenced.  I had to check my notes to confirm that I was bringing the right child with me to correct appointment.  January 15th, and a psychologist is meeting with me and the girls.  Four hours later, the psychologist is gone and I'm making another call to my husband.  "Honey!  Autism, both of them."   He had to do a break.  I hung up and cried.  Our three daughters had Autism.  Where do we go from here?

I started picking therapists brains.  We didn't know what they needed and we couldn't even say the word Autism.  Denial and anger were a constant companion.  How do you ask for help if you can't even admit what is wrong?  

We needed everyone but we couldn't say a word.  To admit that we were devastated was unacceptable but we expected everyone to know and support us.  February 1st, we send our girls to a special Autistic Program -school- for the first time.  We loaded them on the bus and got on it with them so they would be comfortable.  The Baby looked curious and a bit scared.  Bugabuga squeezed her eyes shut for the whole ride.  She shook continuously.  The CEO screamed and cried.  We soothed and she screamed louder.  We were sweating by the time the bus arrived at the school 20 minutes later.  We helped the staff unload the kids and sat in the lobby.  We listened to the girls scream for the entire two hours. We stood at their classroom door and saw the CEO slamming her little body against the floor and Bugabuga shaking in her seat.  The Baby sat quietly with her chin resting against her chest.  Tears were silently plopping onto her shirt.  We could barely stand the pain that we heard.  We held hands and ignored the tears in each other's eyes.  We ignored the fact that my husband had lost his job that morning. We could do this.

April 9th, Handsome was diagnosed.  This time my husband was home and we could deal with this together.  We held each other tightly and started the process to get him help.

Our girls are finishing their program next week.  They are graduating into preschool and they are doing wonderfully.   Better than all the doctors expected.  They can call me Mommy now and they have a nice little arsenal of vocabulary.  We are so proud.  They worked so hard to be able to get to this point.We worked so hard.

I was reading the initial intake paperwork recently and I was struck by the CEO's first goal. " X will show emotion and smile and laugh appropriately."  I look at her now and watch her sing a Barbie song on the top of her lungs. Smiling and laughing, falling on the floor in a fit of giggles.  We did it.  They are going to be okay.

Have a little faith.

When life throws an unexpected curve, it's hard to shake it off and move forward. I would be dishonest if I said that I was shitting rainbows at the thought of having special needs children, more likely, I was shitting bricks.

I had helpful friends and family suggest seeing a psychiatrist. "You'll need an anti-depressant at least and maybe some anti-anxiety drugs too. Hell, I would."

There may have been some truth to that. I probably could have used an anti-depressant, because the truth was, I was depressed. But I'm a tough little bitch that will wait to see a doctor until a limb is hanging off at a funny angle. I'll fight tooth and nail not to see a doctor and the only appointments I go to are made by my husband.

I needed to find my way. Daily I woke up sad and overwhelmed with the kids needs. I needed to take care of the fact that I was constantly dizzy from high blood pressure. 'Try meditating."

My constant replays were, "When? How?"

I dealt with the stress in the only way that I knew how. I ate all day. Any time something bothered me, I ate toast, anything. I stuffed down my emotions. It wasn't a good way to live.

I needed help and normally, usually I would pray for peace. But at this point in my life, I was rip-roaring angry. For the first and only time in my life, I faltered in my faith.

"If there was a God, this wouldn't be happening. I pray every fucking morning and every fucking night. For what? To give thanks for a life of no peace? I'll never die peacefully knowing that they need help. There is no God. Fuck going to Church. Fuck it all. I'm done. He has forsaken me first."

Just saying the words made my heart beat fast. My body revolted against what my mind was saying.

When a traumatic event takes place, everyone needs an outlet. I was no exception.

I believe that to grow as a person you have to face true darkness in order to appreciate the beauty that is surrounding you.

I needed a break, my husband could see it and suggested that I go grocery shopping to calm down.

That's when it happened. I found God in the meat section of Pathmark.

I was looking at reduced chicken-it was the only type we could afford. I was so angry that I couldn't afford to buy the chicken breast that is my favorite. I picked up package after package to make sure that the meat wasn't off. I settled on one that was $2.94.

I walked past the fresh vegetables-another favorite and walked down the canned food aisle. Beans go farther than other proteins. I can't stand beans.

I angrily loaded the cart with the sale canned vegetables. My next stop was the baby aisle. Time to pick up diapers and formula. One can of Neutramigen cost $34. I reached for the diapers and saw that the price had gone up. They were $22 instead of $19. I couldn't afford it.

I looked in my cart and the reduced chicken was mocking me. I turned the cart around. Ready to cry, I added the diapers and walked over to the meat section.

I put the chicken back and straightened my shoulders. "It's just chicken." I thought to myself. We needed $160 for doctor visit co pays that week and $294 for my husband's train ticket so he could work. We weren't going to have nearly enough. "It's just chicken."

I slowly turned away. So angry with the world and proceeded to slam my cart into a woman standing behind me. It was 12:3o in the morning. Why was someone so close? I started to say something really nasty and looked at the fool that was invading my personal space. I made eye contact with a nun.

A nun-at 12:30 in the morning-in Pathmark.

"Why are you so angry? I can see it on your face."

I snorted. "If you only knew, Sister."

"Tell me."

"What?" I'm losing it, there is no way that a nun is in Pathmark at 12:30 am. Don't they have a curfew?

"My child, you've become jaded and hardened. What is wrong? Unload your burden and you'll feel better."

"Sister, my life sucks. I can't afford a piece of fucking chicken because I have to go to four fucking doctor appointments with my four Autistic children and what sucks more is that I could have fit in two more doctor appointments but I can't afford to bring them. I worked my ass off to have a good career and I walked away from it to help these children that don't speak, rock continuously and slap the shit out of themselves. I've lost myself. I'm so fucking angry and where the fuck is my God? Like an asshole I went to Mass every week, for what?"

I stood in front of the chicken and looked at her expectantly. I was daring her to tell me that it will be okay.

"I have no answers for you. You've been given a heavier load than most. I'll keep you in my prayers. God makes no mistakes. He's in every breath and every thought, every smile and every tear. Have a good night. Peace be with you."

I was spent and more than a bit embarrassed. There was a stock man looking at me strangely-more than likely because I cursed while speaking to a nun.

I walked to the checkout defeated. I paid for the groceries and had 12 cents left over. I loaded the car and went home.

The house was quiet when I arrived. I unloaded and started organizing the kitchen. The kids would get so upset if the cans didn't line up perfectly. The last bag was especially heavy. I looked down and in my hand was a fresh chicken breast.

I closed my eyes. "God, forgive me. I'll never doubt you again."