My Son Always Pointed

Last night Cooper requested that I sit on the front porch with him. Which I gladly agreed too. It’s not often that my little Energizer Bunny asks me to sit with him.

As he meticulously lined up his treasures around us he noticed the trucks and bulldozers that were working in the field behind our house. He immediately squealed in delight, pointed, and turned my cheek. He was in awe. And felt that I should be just as excited as he was.

He climbed up on my lap and snuggled up to my growing belly to watch them work. His 70 pound body felt big. Every five seconds he would point and squeal again.

We sat there for five or so minutes. Which in Cooper time is equivalent to five hours. I let me mind drift back a few years. To the beginning. Pre-diagnosis. Back when autism was a word that happened to other people’s children. Not to my perfect, beautiful boy.

Back before autism changed everything. When we were still so hopeful it was just a delay. Just a stubborn boy. Just anything else I guess.

I immediately pictured him at three years old walking so deliberately around our backyard. Short. Perfectly chubby. Blonde, shaggy hair. Clumsy, pudgy little fingers pointing out airplanes, birds and trees. Always with purpose. Always on a mission. But never actually doing anything. Just walking aimlessly.

The two of us would spend so much time wandering outside. We did this because I had to get him out of the house. I had to get him away from the television. I had to get him into our world. I had to stop the worry. The underlying, refuse to say out loud, worry that something was wrong.

And we wandered because he didn’t know how to play. He’d wander past the sandbox, the swing set, the outdoor toys. And point at each of them and clap as he walked by.

Long before Cooper was diagnosed with autism, it’s important to know that he always pointed. He always waved. He always got my attention to show me something he found interesting. He waved. He smiled. He greeted strangers at the window or front door.

I can still see that chubby little finger pointed up to the sky as my sweet boy squealed in delight.

I remember thinking confidently, he points. He waves. He sees people around him. This is going to be fine.

And then, after a particularly hard day, I would get on the computer and google, ‘no words at age two’ or ‘extreme rigidity in toddlers.’

I’d see search results saying that boys are just late talkers. Or flapping is normal. And I’d tell myself, of course this is fine. My son points. He waves. He smiles. I was silly for overreacting.

Then I’d see autism as a search result.

The articles would often be extreme. Autism was either a super smart, talented quirky kid or a dark, violent kid that rocks in a corner for hours.

I would read those stories and think, well, neither of those are my son. He’s fine. He waves. He points. He passes the M-Chat every single time. I held on so tight to the skills he did have. His point. His wave. His smile.

We are long past the diagnosis days. Cooper is seven. We are in an amazing place. He is thriving. And yet, every so often, I think about the beginning.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t traumatized. By the internal fight with myself and the external fight trying to get help.

On days like today, I think about how far we’ve come. I still smile at that excited point. I ooh and aah at every airplane he shows me. I clap when he asks. And I am thankful that we are long past the diagnosis days. My heart breaks for parents just starting out because I know how hard it is going to be for a while.

But they will make it through. Just like we did. And be very humbled by the beginning.

Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our newsletter.

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