Confessions from the Deepest Part of My Heart

This one has me feeling vulnerable and emotionally naked.  When I first had these thoughts, I blamed myself for being a terrible mother.  My husband reassured me these thoughts are some he's had, and if that makes me a bad mom, we're bad parents together.  One of my best friends reassured me it's normal, and most importantly, it's okay.  If you're not in our situation, you can't possibly understand, so I ask you to please reserve judgement.

So, here goes.

I've done a lot of praying over Baby E's health.  I just want him to be healthy.  Whatever else is thrown at us, just let him be healthy.  Let him be happy.  I think those are pretty normal parent prayers.  There are things we would never want our children to suffer with or from, things that we would rather pray them around than pray them through.

And, this weekend, I prayed: Let Baby E be neurotypical.  Please, no more ASD.

Genetically speaking, it's a legitimate concern in our family.  However, my prayer has given me a heaviness to my heart and my shoulders.

Not because I can't handle it.  Not because I don't want it.  Not because I don't love Noah just the way he is.

Because I want Avery to be able to experience what it's like to play with a brother, to really, actually engage and be engaged with a brother who plays intentionally, and plays with him.

There are times my mommy heart soars, and other times it just sinks and shatters.  Watching my boys play in the snow this weekend was one of those sinking and shattering moments.  Noah is the child who goes outside to escape, think, and engage in a fantasy world while he indulges in his own version of stimming.  Avery is the child who goes outside to yell, run, carry on, play, climb, race--you get the idea. Avery wanted so badly to play with Noah, to interact, to throw snowballs, to build a snowman, to be pulled in a sled, and to just have fun with his brother.  He did not want us to do it, he wanted his brother.  Noah wanted to nothing of it, wanting (needing?) instead to only do his pacing and circles he does in the backyard.

I hate admitting all of this because I feel as though I'm down on my own child. I feel as though I'm asking something of him which he is not capable, and for all of my "embrace your weird" talk, I feel as though I'm asking him to be normal.  For Noah, this IS normal.  Noah is who he is, and I love him just the way he is.

But my heart broke, watching Avery repeatedly try to engage Noah, beg Noah, just want to interact with Noah.  Noah is not being mean or cold, yet Avery does not entirely understand Noah's ways.  Avery does not know any different; he does not know that his brother is different or whatever label you want to use--all he knows is Noah is his brother, and he desperately wants to engage with his brother.  He so looks up to Noah.  As their mom though, I selfishly want Avery to be able to experience what it's like to have a brother who will look up to him, who will want to play with him.

Another thing I worry about is Avery being caught in the middle, and having to care, or at least look after, two brothers.  There is already a very good chance, that even as capable as Noah is, we will have to set up some sort of trust in order for him to care for himself--and when we are gone, it will be up to Avery, nine years younger, to oversee that and look after his brother.

I want Avery to be able to experience life with a neurotypical brother, and not have to be the caretaker for all of them.

In the deepest part of my heart, this is one of the reasons why I pray E will be neurotypical.