The Corner of the Waiting Room
Let me tell you all about how a corner in a waiting room became my home today.
I took my son Gianni to therapy for a 1:45 appointment. We arrived at 1:30. When we arrived they said it wasn’t until 2.
We are in the lobby.
Gianni is acting insane. His body won’t stay in one place. He’s screaming the most highest pitched scream he can manage.
It’s a very small waiting room. EVERYONE, and I mean everyone, is staring at us.
I tell him to use his inside voice. A lady starts laughing and says, “inside voice?! Haha, I don’t even have one of those. Haha!”
The same lady then gets called in with her daughter. Gianni had just got done screaming.
Her response to getting called in is a very loud, “THANK GOD!” She then proceeded to nearly trip over her own feet leaving the waiting room.
I took my son into the corner of the waiting room. His entire body flailing, unable to regulate. I am holding him with all my strength, but he proceeds to slam his head on the wooden part you see in the picture below.
I could feel myself getting hot, tense, my tongue getting numb. I know these signs all too well.
My body is about to fall into a panic attack. And that it did.
I broke down beyond my wildest dreams; in public. I am now at a point where I am beyond my element.
I don’t do this in public EVER. I DO NOT BREAK. Not in front of people. But I did. And these beautiful people that work at the front desk came to me bawling in the corner of the waiting room, offered me tissues, picked me up, took my son away from me to do his therapy, and allowed me time to decompress.
While my son was in therapy, I bawled alone in the staff room. How grateful I was for that few minutes.
How grateful I am to be able to say that this was a bad day, and this isn’t an everyday occurrence.
How grateful I was when, despite his outbursts before and during therapy, his therapist came to me afterwards and told me how amazing he did.
To the lady who was clearly judging:
You only saw part of my life. A hard part. What you didn’t see, is all the beauty and all the joy that I have taking care of my severe nonverbal warrior.
You didn’t see my son watching the same episode of paw patrol for the thousandth time and squealing with joy for his favorite part, regardless if he’s seen it before.
You didn’t see the way his eyes light up every time he asks for a cookie.
You didn’t hear him use his voice appropriately and say “I want this” when asking for something.
You didn’t see the way he looks at me when I tell him how much I love him.
You didn’t see all the progress we’ve made in a year.
There is so much more to this Autism thing than meets the eye. Mamas break too, sometimes in the most unexpected places, in a room full of strangers.
Instead of the stares, the angry huffs and puffs due to another child’s behaviors, replace that with
“Do you need someone to talk to?”
“Would you like me to sit with you?”
“Do you need a tissue?”
So many of those go such a long way, especially in the special needs world.
Written by, Nicole DelVecchio
My name is Nikki and I’m a single mom to the most amazing boy you could ever imagine!
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