You are so Lucky
So often we forget the power of our words. We will say something and not realize that what we said could have a lasting impression on someone.
Positive or negative.
I received notification earlier this week that Sawyer’s class enjoyed a lesson from the school’s autism program.
Each student had the opportunity to experience what it is like for some students to learn when there are constant distractions affecting their five senses.
As soon as I read the message I was curious.
Sawyer lives autism. It is his everyday life. He knows all too well what can happen when a child gets overwhelmed with constant distractions.
I immediately wanted to know how he reacted to the lesson.
Did he mention Cooper? Was he embarrassed?
Did he act silly? Did he care? Did he shy away?
We talk about autism openly in our home. It is not a bad word. We don’t whisper it. We don’t say it as a negative term either.
I’ve heard so many people over the years act like it’s a bad thing. Nope. Not in our home.
And we certainly don’t hide it either.
It is part of our lives. And we celebrate it. But in saying that, I would never, ever pressure Sawyer to speak about it. Or share that his brother is autistic.
When he’s ready, if ever, he can share about his brother. No pressure.
I immediately messaged his teacher asking how he handled it.
She responded with, ‘He was excited to volunteer during the presentation. He also shared that he has a brother with autism. His smile was huge when the autism para responded with, ‘you are so lucky.’
When I read that I choked up.
You are so lucky. What an absolutely beautiful thing to say to a little boy who is learning to accept and understand differences.
So many times on this blog, and in everyday life, I share some of the hardships that Sawyer has endured because his brother is autistic. How his life is different. Sometimes frustrating. How he has learned to be wiser than his years.
But in the same breath, I am truly, 100% thankful that Sawyer has Cooper. I am thankful that Sawyer is learning about differences. And advocating. And learning what it means to protect.
Sawyer IS lucky. Everyone that has Cooper in their lives is. I truly believe that. He is absolutely amazing.
Sawyer may not see it now. But someday he will.
And for someone to tell him that, when there is often so much sadness and frustration at times, means the world to me.
When I asked him how the presentation went he said…’fine.’
And I probed. ‘Did it go well? Did you talk about Coops?’
With the biggest Sawyer grin he said, ‘Yes mama. I found out that I’m pretty lucky. No one else has a brother like Cooper.’
This woman was maybe just being nice. Or maybe she really meant it. It doesn’t matter I guess.
She made a lasting impression on Sawyer.
He is the lucky one in class. He has a brother with autism.
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I don’t know anything about autism except for what Iv learned from you. I figured I better learn about autism because 1 in 59 children will be born with it in the United States. I don’t know why. I do wonder if it’s from all the poison in our foods or is it from poison in their childhood shots. You are absolutely the best mom ever. Your voice is so calming. I just want to give little cooper a hug. Keep up the good work. Love the information. Thank you
We parents of neurotypical children don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, either. Possible sad outcomes could include major medical issues, addiction, trauma, etc… We don’t dwell on that, however, and just (naively?) assume the best and stop thinking about it. Willful ignorance can be bliss.
Your thoughts and raw words have brought me comfort during a time when I feel so alone. I truly can’t express my heartache and simultaneous guilt to another person who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. My partner is in denial and my friends have disappeared. I’m a stay at home Mom advocating for my son who has autism, Liam.