A Cliff - And We Just Jumped Without A Parachute

This morning we told Jay that he is autistic.

For a few months now, we've known we were inching toward ripping off the proverbial bandaid. Jay is ten-and-a-half now, on the brink of adolescence, and things are changing. As D-Day approached, we'd often wonder whether he understood why he's in a special ed class, why he sometimes can't control the way his hands automatically move to rhythmically shake when he is excited, or a million other confusing things.

Boof and Moo are starting to pick up on the differences too. It was always our intention to treat each of the children exactly alike in terms of expectations, rules and rewards, so while the kids were quite young, the autism was a non-issue. We just kind of got on with life. The younger two have never known anything different in Jay. We were already pregnant with Moo (and Boof was just a toddler) when Jay had his first autism assessment in October 2001 (at age nearly-3) and she was just a few months old when he was eventually diagnosed in April 2002 (3 ½ yrs). Both Boof and Moo have adapted beautifully - but then, they've never had the alternative.

Jay was ready - WE were ready. We got books in preparation for The Big Announcement. We spoke to his teachers (they do not actively discuss individual students' disabilities with them unless the parents are okay with it - though of course most of the more astute kids have worked out, or were told, that their classroom arrangement and teacher-student ratio of 1:6 is a little out of the ordinary). We took him out for a fun day today. McDonalds. Arcade games. Mini golf (he won, Daddy lost, much to Jay's amusement!) When we finished off the day with our little discussion, we kept things light. We didn't gloss over anything, but we knew that in the new leg of this autism journey we've been on, specifics are less important. There will be plenty of time for questions later.

I'm continually surprised at my children's abilities to hear, digest and move on after days like today. When my mother died three years ago (and the kids were still young), it was the first time any of them had experienced death up close. They watched me, took their cues, and reacted instinctively. We often talk about Nana. It was the same today. Jay didn't say much, but he took everything we told him on board, and asked a couple of questions. When we returned home, I gave him a simple storybook about a autistic girl who describes how she feels and understands the world around her. He sat and read it through. A couple of times, he expressed surprise at the similarities between the girl's story and his own. And then when he was done, he calmly demanded a snack and Deal or No Deal. Fair enough little man. Fair enough :)

Though technically high-functioning autistic and intellectually on par with his peers, socially life will always be difficult. He's no autistic savant a la Rainman. But he loves game shows. Adores them. He will likely hold them in their same high standing right the way through his life, far beyond most adults' threshold for tolerating them. When he is twenty, and describing in great detail who won what amount of money on Millionaire with the same enthusiasm a four year old might show over a batman dress-up outfit, life is going to be interesting.

But...

It is enough. Just to have the wound laid bare. Enough.