This View

The view you see in this picture is a view I’ve seen countless times. This is the window in Alan‘s room. I’ve spent many nights on the floor in this bedroom next to his bed praying, breathing, crying and pleading with God to help my son find his voice.

I took this picture because we are moving in a couple months and it’s signifies the house that we have been in the trenches in. It’s bittersweet to know that we are leaving the good the bad and the ugly behind and starting a new beginning in our new house. One thing is for sure, this view of this window will be ingrained in my memory for as long as I live. Alan has come so far when it comes to sleeping issues. We are nowhere near where we were two years ago. At that time I felt like I was in this bedroom looking out that window at least a couple times a week running on fumes and emptiness.

But this particular night, I think he had a stomach ache and was having a hard time staying asleep. So I did what I usually do. I hug him, I love on him, and once he is sick of me, I moved to the floor next to his bed and count his breaths and hopefully watch him fall asleep peacefully and then I can sneak out.

It is crazy that this picture I took a couple weeks ago means so much to me. The amount of tears I have cried in this position on his bedroom floor are unfathomable. The tears come from a lot of hurt, worry, being scared of the unknown, and just flat out feeling hopeless at times. It is heavy for me to look at this window and remember all the emotions and feelings I have felt over the years of living in this house and having this as Alan‘s bedroom. But taking the good with the bad I have to remember how far we have come living in this house of trenches with Autism. It makes me realize just how much he has grown over the years. It makes me think of the little toddler who couldn’t even look at us in the eye, who has now turned into an older boy who can have a whole conversation with just his eyes. I think back to the little toddler who would only sleep for a couple hours at a time, to the boy now who we usually have to drag out of bed for school in the morning. I think of all the trials and tribulations we have been through with doctors, specialists, therapists, medications, sleep aids, all the bells and whistles to enhance his life for the better. All to come to the conclusion that less is more with him and he has a much happier child with just purely being Alan.

With that being said tomorrow is his second functional doctor appointment. I am excited and very nervous at the same time. She will give us suggestions of what to try with him and avenues we can go, but with every appointment there’s always a part of me that is worried nothing is going to work and we will be back at square one. I guess it is just the pessimist part of life, that way of thinking. But in all reality, I know I am just protecting my heart and my ability to navigate when things work for other children, but not my own. I have said it a million times I know I will never cure him of Autism, but I just want him to be able to speak. And when I think about tomorrow, I think about Alan’s window and how we have been here before, but every time we are here, I know I’ll never lose hope, I’ll never stop praying and still never stop begging to gives us the wisdom to help him find his voice.

With Grace,

This Autism Mama