Jack and Mama
He seems so innocent, still such a baby in so many ways even though he is occupying the body of a 4-year old. After the week we had last week, I just wanted to shelter him, protect him, and never let him go.
I wanted to keep my boy at home where nothing could harm him. Where he wouldn't be made to feel bad or wrong. Where he could be exactly who he is. Where he could be protected within this cocoon that we have established here at home.
It is here that he doesn't have to be forced to be someone else. He doesn't have to "get used to" the way the rest of the world does things. In this world, he can just be Jack.
At home, I can watch him and protect him from harm. I know if he's okay. I don't have to worry if he will get hurt, or if he will scratch himself, or if he will suddenly have a scary reaction to something. I can act if he starts running a fever. I don't have to worry because I'm there and can keep watch over my boy.
Yet...
In the wake of feeling like the world just might not be a good fit for my boy, we went back to the Georgia Aquarium over the weekend. It was Autism Awareness Day there, and we had free tickets and a whole 2 hours to enjoy the aquarium prior to it opening to the general public. Naturally, I couldn't turn down free tickets, so I sent my RSVP the moment I received the email about it.
Honestly, going to the Aquarium was not at the top of my list after the week we'd had. I was spent, my anxiety was at a recent high, and I had spent several days in a dark cloud - not because of autism, but because of how the world treats my boy and the things he must deal with because he is autistic.
Luckily, we had agreed to go with my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and my baby nephew, so I couldn't back out of the deal. It was a good thing. I needed what I would find.
Jack's experience at the Aquarium this time around was actually worse than the last. He really struggled to keep it together and was unsuccessful most of the time. You might think this would have led to a negative experience for us all at the aquarium this go-around, but it did not. Instead, when Jack was screaming, when he was pacing, stimming, squealing, and generally doing anything but looking at the fish, there was no judgment. None. Instead, I got smiles from the other moms. A couple of people commented on how cute he looked. One lady, who was escorting her older child wearing a set of bright blue headphones, commented to me on just how much my son behaved like hers when he was Jack's age.
And that's when it hit me. We speak so much about inclusion. Inclusion this and inclusion that. It's better for our kids to be around "typically-developing" children, right? Here's where I would like to amend that statement...you see, there were NT children at the aquarium yesterday, so you could call it an "inclusion" activity, but there was a difference. For each of those families there was just like ours. They all spoke the language of autism. Every person in that aquarium had an autistic loved one, child, sibling, relative, or friend.
Jack - and I - were among our people.
Instead of a negative experience being - well - a negative, it didn't seem so bad, because there was no one else there telling us that it was. There was no one staring or making us feel like our son was doing something wrong. He could just be.
Perhaps, that's the model for inclusion that we should strive to achieve. Instead of a forced mix of people to create a sort of accepting utopia, perhaps we should create an environment around our children of people who know and accept them for the wonderful people they are. I am a firm believer that simply placing my child in a room with all NTs will not force acceptance on anyone who refuses, so I choose to surround my child with people who understand.
Because understanding and acceptance create an environment where are children - and us as their parents - are made to feel like they are not wrong. They are okay. That the unique things that make them who they are - even their stims, fixations, and rigidity - are not merely aspects of themselves to be stamped out. Rather, they are made to feel like people. People who are worthy of love and respect.
Imagine the possibilities in such a world.