Train Park.
If you've been following this blog for a bit then you know that our family has moved quite a few times. Well surprise! We are moving again! To say this summer has been a whirlwind of travel would be an understatement. The kids and I have driven through Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, Utah, then back through all those states and up to Michigan.
And as life would have it, I dropped one kid off in Indiana for a karate camp, and the other 2 kids off in Mid-Michigan with family and found myself in the lake town of Traverse City, MI. It has been years since I have returned to that beautiful town and dipped my feet in Lake Michigan where our little family once called home.
It has been nice catching up with old friends, going back to favorite restaurants and eating some of the best ice cream on the planet right next to the cows who helped make it.
However I had an unexpected experience while driving through the town I once lived in. As I was driving through the downtown streets I passed a park that was a favorite to my boys when they were little. A cute park with a train theme that I spent more hours then I will ever know there. And when I drove past I unexpectedly burst into uncontrollable tears. As I slowed down to take a look around I asked myself, why am I crying?? I was having a lovely day. The weather was beautiful and here I was bawling my eyes out.
Younger Mr. L
And that's when it hit me. Going to that park had been SO HARD. Every single time I went to that park had been emotionally, mentally and often physically exhausting. But why you might ask was it difficult? And if it was, why did I keep going?
Well I'll let you in on a little secret, during that period of my life was some of the hardest years of raising my autistic son so far. At that point in my life as a young mother, my son had been diagnosed with severe autism and a speech delay among other diagnoses. He was currently in speech and ABA therapy and my husband and I were navigating how to teach this sweet child how to talk, how to be safe, and how to participate appropriately in society. And of course the world around us is not always forgiving of those with cognitive disabilities that they can't visibly see, so the comments of the uneducated felt like a constant smack to the face as our little family kept working towards our child learning independence.
Instead of hiding inside our apartment and telling ourselves that it was too hard to take our special needs child out in public and instead of telling ourselves we will do it later when he is older, we chose to take him out when he was younger and physically more manageable. And looking back I am so glad we did because I was younger and faster then too!
Every trip to that park involved, verbal reminders of safety- things like stay close, don't run away, stay out of the road, etc. I also at times brought visual signs, timers, alarms, positive reinforcements, snacks, and always laced up running shoes!
But my son with autism wasn't an only child. So at the same time of keeping track of my silent runner I had his little toddler brother along for the adventures, and then later I chased the two of them around pregnant until I had their baby sister to carry too.
This park held more than just the physical running around memories for me though. It also held the heartache of watching my little boy wander up to other little kids, start to play with them and then watch as he got left behind because he didn't have the speech or social skills to understand how park play worked. I would stand there while pushing his little brother in a swing or rock back and forth with his baby sister in my arms and watch as he stood there confused and sad before wandering away.
Sometimes I would step in and direct him on what to do next, and sometimes I would get looks from the other parents wondering why I wasn't just letting him be a kid- "Because he didn't know how", I wanted to scream into the sky! But then other times I would stand back because I didn't want to be a constant hovering parent and watched as he quietly wandered away to play by himself.
During school meetings and therapy sessions I would share with his team how his little brother could keep up with the pack of toddlers at the park but Mr. L couldn't manage more then 4 minutes before having no idea what the other kids were doing or how to be a part of the obvious fun that was right in front of him- like a wall had been put up and he didn't know how to get past it.
So many hours were spent standing guard at that park, watching my kids with a hopeful smile on my face and a heavy heart in my chest wondering if he would learn how to make friends, as I kept my feet and half my constant focus on being poised to sprint after my constant eloping little runner.
As time would have it be, that little train loving runner has grown into a preteen who can make friends. Mr. L can read to peers, he can tell jokes, he helps keep his little sister safe now, he has been to birthday parties and has competed for his local swim team. He is usually calm, level headed and enjoys the company of others.
If I could reach back in time I would tell that young, overwhelmed and exhausted mother that she was strong, courageous, and that her dedication would be all worth it. That one day she could wear flip flops again and that her son would say the words, "I love you too mom".
Mr. L and I
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