A Letter to my Three Year Old Son
Dear Charlie,
My son. What I would give to hear you call me Mum, but something stops you. There is a disconnect and those invisible walls go up around you. And just like that you are lost in your own world again and my heart breaks.
Charlie you are such a happy kid, your giggle is infectious and you make everyone you meet smile. You would spend hours jumping on your bed if you could, you energy seems at times endless.
I have never had a conversation with you but at the moment you are saying “bue” for “blue” and often say “car” when you see one when we are out walking or on TV. You love letters and numbers and recognize the alphabet when you see it. You can put all of your alphabet blocks in order from A-Z and recite most of the letters.
Repetition is your thing, and you like watching the same movies and YouTube clips over and over again, just like you like the same routines.
Most of the time you let me read to you now. Your favourites (and mine) are the Hairy Maclary series. You will let me know if you don’t like the story or the way I’m telling it by grabbing the book off me or by making a funny growling sound. I get a lot of enjoyment from reading to you.
Another way that we do connect my Charlie bear is when I pick you up and dance with you on my hip to music on the TV. You smile and laugh as we spin around and I dip you upside down and in that moment we are connected, we are on the same page.
Your diagnosis of moderate to severe autism is scary. It is scary because I don’t know if we’re doing enough to help you, to teach you to hopefully communicate with words, to socialize, to learn everyday life skills like going to the toilet, eating with a knife and fork, sipping from a cup, washing your hands…the list goes on. It is stressed how important it is to “play” with you and to motivate you to engage with us and other people. Things that are second nature to most people are so hard and unnatural for you.
Charlie, in some of my darkest days it has taken all my strength just to meet your daily needs; nappy changes, baths, eating and making sure you are safe can be frustrating and lonely when there is little or no engaging, reciprocation and participation from you.
For the sake of my mental health and both our happiness, our amazing parents, your grandparents, look after you regularly. I know that you love your time and play with Nan and Poppa and it makes me so happy to see how much they love you. I also firmly believe that it makes me a better mum when we are together too Charlie .
It goes without saying that I love you so much Charlie and that you are my world, even if at times we seem world’s apart.
Written by, Emma Gamley
My names Emma and I have a son Charlie who was diagnosed on the spectrum with moderate to severe asd. We live in Whangarei New Zealand with Charlie’s dad, my fiance Eric and our Staffordshire terrier Jet.
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