Preparing my child for kindergarten looks different than most. He has spent the past year and a half attending daily therapy to help him understand how to go to traditional school. Playing with friends, asking for what he wants, and conveying his feelings doesn’t come naturally. Traditional ways of teaching this to a child do not register with his brain. 

Every weekday, I navigate my 4 year old to a parking lot in a business park full of Beamers, rusted Hondas, Teslas, new cars, old cars, big cars, and little cars stalled in spaces too small for the orchestration it takes to move small children from one place to another. Inside the lobby of the lot’s destination, we encounter Moms in power suits with their child hanging on their leg, grandmothers with perfect hair on chairs bear hugging their grandchild, Dads in sweats chasing their child from one wall to another, siblings on their knees coaxing shoes off, grandfathers making silly faces to their grandchild and the one next to him who has now declared that he is everyone’s “grandpa.” Behind the desk sits a smiling face donning a Bluey sweatshirt. Or maybe today it’s Stitch. In and out of the building’s main door is a parade of people in hospital scrubs, business attire, athleisure, and movie character shirts carrying plastic pieces of paper with photos of stop signs, trampolines, forks, and books. Some also carry small devices mimicking tablets whose only squares are for requests. The lobby is loud. Squeals of delight, cries of frustration, details of how mornings have started and how nights ended are exchanged without difficulty or judgement through the symphony of chaos.

When my child sees his tech for the day, his eyes halt their darting, fixate on them, and glow. He runs to them while yelling their name to place his head on their belly. Mom is immediately forgotten until his tech asks him to say “goodbye,” which he does, barely looking in my direction because he is ready for his day at ABA. 

ABA stands for “Applied Behavior Analysis” and is a therapy frequently utilized by those with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). It focuses on identifying triggers to maladaptive behavior i.e. head banging, eating items not meant to be consumed, aggressive behavior, etc. It uses a myriad of strategies to encourage appropriate replacement behaviors. It can be a controversial approach and I am not here to debate with anyone who believes it is not the best approach for their child. I sympathize with anyone who has had an unfortunate experience with the treatment and  I will also not receive any criticism for providing what has been a godsend for my child. If you would like to learn more about ABA, you can find more information here: https://www.autismspeaks.org/applied-behavior-analysis

From here, I could tell you how we decided ABA was the best option for our child. I could detail his struggles; share his goals and failures. He does not understand what it means to put that out in the world (he may never) so his story is not mine to tell. I can tell you that he has parents that would try nothing less than setting themselves on fire to help him be the best version of himself. I can tell you that parenting a high support needs child is not something I ever thought I could do but then I was gifted one and never once considered abandoning him. I can tell you that he has not “destroyed our family;” that he has difficult moments and days just like our other children. His “difficult” looks different. There is much less support and understanding for his difficult times. I can tell you people don’t include us because they are afraid of his “difficult.” I can tell you that the moments he sees me and says “ I love you, MomMom,” are some of my favorite. I can tell you that some days I imagine a life where he does not change from the version he is today and I cry for the life I thought he would have when he was floating in my belly. I can tell you that some days I imagine a life where he does not change from the version he is today and look forward to all the joy he manifests in our family. 

While our child works on his goals in ABA, I have some goals for myself to be the best parent I can be for him.

• I will stay on top of information regarding services he receives and how we can best utilize and protect them.
• I will learn and practice the skills he is learning and practicing.
• I will ignore the looks of parents who judge my parenting at the playground when my child doesn’t act like theirs.
• I will inform others when they present kind curiosity.
• I will ask for help when I feel like I can’t do another day. 
• I will thank those in our little village for not abandoning us when visiting our home became an adventure. 
• I will give my other children just as much time as I give my child with high support needs.
• I will look my spouse in the eye and see him. 
• I will not drown in guilt when I take time to choose myself.
• I will remain confident in our family’s choices and not let the opinions of others haunt me. 

In a time in our culture where people have been granted permission to dismiss those who do not fit in a specific box, I ask for your kindness and patience. In just over a year, my small child has worked so hard to fight for the acceptance to sit at the same table as your kid who is welcomed without conditions. This school year, he will sit next to children who have not needed a year of therapy to just be there. It will take him longer to do most things but he will do them. These moments in which he runs through the rolodex of information in his head to find the action or words he needs before choosing a behavior has taught me the beauty in waiting. Our culture encourages us to multitask, know all the things, be all the places, and go-go-go but when you simply stop and wait, it’s easier to recognize all the beauty we miss when we rush past them.