I love and accept my boy unconditionally, but does that mean?if it is a fundamental part of what makes him him?that I must also love his autism" This is a question that hangs in the air and, much like autism itself, punctuates my every day. Even a beautiful morning in late summer…
We were meeting a child from my son?s former school. My nine-year-old was excited. This was his first playdate in months. When we arrived at the park, it was quiet. No one was on the climbing structure. Good, I thought. Too many kids may overwhelm him. Two nannies sat in the shade while their charges ran toy trucks back and forth beside the nearby wading pool. My son waited by the gate, and when he saw his friend arrive, his face lit up. She smiled and then made a beeline for the swings. For some reason, he refused to follow. He used to love this park, but in the past year something had changed with him or with the park?it wasn?t yet clear which one it was.
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My son has autism, but I refuse to let it limit our family?Come on,? she called out to him. The swing beside her was free, and she wanted him to claim it. But my son stood rooted to the spot, his body rigid. Abject terror distorted his normally soft features. On the outskirts of the playground, where a ...