I always feel compelled to write on Stephen's birthday, even though he'll never read or understand any of the stuff his mother has blathered on about for years now...
My baby is eleven today - in body only. His mind is stuck at 18 months or so. David has been thinking lately about how the autism "stuff" really isn't so bothersome anymore - it's having what seems like an eternal toddler who can't go potty or understand abstract concepts...who very often won't take no for an answer, at least not without a tantrum. David's hoping to research this further...even the tiniest shred of hope that someday, something could be switched on in Stephen's brain to allow it to develop, just a little more... It makes me cry just to consider that possibility.
We celebrated Stephen's birthday a couple of days ago - he did pretty well with understanding when the presents were all opened, that we were done with "open." So today is just like any other day for him. I told his teacher to be careful about saying "Happy Birthday" too much, lest Stephen start up with "birthday open?" again. How wistful and sad it is to have to be that guarded with one's words.
Life continues to revolve around routine and trying to plan ahead and think of eventualities... I'm not sure when I'll give in and admit that I'll never, ever be able to anticipate everything. I'm always trying to stay a step ahead. Sometimes it works. Many times it doesn't because life just doesn't cooperate that way, for anyone.
It's 9:55 a.m. as I'm writing this. Eleven years ago, we had just completed a very hurried and frantic ride to the hospital - once Stephen decided he was ready to be born, he didn't stand on ceremony. I barely made it to the hospital to give birth to this enormous baby (2 ounces shy of 10 pounds).
I remember very clearly the feeling of joy after the birth of another healthy baby. Once the postpartum stuff passed, we had a blissful (for the most part) year and a half or so - before we knew there was anything wrong, before the autism showed itself, before Stephen's development hit a wall...before life changed forever.
Today I will go home, as usual, and hug my baby, and hope with all that is in me that someday things will get better.
