On a sunny winter Sunday ...

When I was pregnant Lachie's dad and I used to refer to the little being inside me as the 'bug a lug' - 'Bugs' is what I have always called him since before he was born. It hasn't actually been until he started school that I seriously made an effort to call him Lachie and even now I generally call him 'Bugs' when I'm talking to him, but Lachie when I'm talking to other people about him.

My personal situation when I was pregnant sure wasn't ideal. There was a fair amount of stress and craziness going on. I was homeless for a while and I wasn't really talking to any of my family. Occasionally when I used to think about  the 'whys' of it all - my son having autism that is - I used to wonder and think about the stress that I was under and wonder if I had caused it.
I now say I 'would' think about it - as nowadays I don't think about the 'causes' of autism as much as I did when people started using that word around my child.
For a while I thought about it a lot. Sometimes now I think people pay too much attention to the 'why'. I know why people see it as so important - because if they can work out a 'why' then maybe then they can stop it from happening - and they think if they have a 'why' then they might then be able to work out a way to 'cure' it. I look at Bugs and the whys really don't matter anymore.
He is who he is. If I knew why, would he be any happier today? Would the people who come across him in our daily life come to understand him? If I knew why, I couldn't even explain it to him in a way he would understand. If someone offered me a 'cure' would I take it? What is so wrong with who he is anyway? I don't know the answer to 1000 questions about all of this, and that's why I've tried to stop asking them. Don't get me wrong - am I happy he has autism - no.   I want him to be able to make it through a little easier in this world. I want for things not to be so overwhelming at times for him. I wish he could tell me things that he can't - from why he is crying all of a sudden, to what he did that day at school. I wish I could tell him things that would reassure him. I can't imagine being a child and not being able to ask questions about life and the world. BUT - there is nothing wrong with who he is and I refuse to try and break him into being 'normal' and I refuse to make him 'act' normal all day everyday when he is just doing as we all do and is living his life the best he can with the experiences he is having.

He was born on a sunny Sunday in the middle of Winter and I don't think he really wanted to arrive. Although my waters had broken the day before and I was having some contractions - they didn't really move past what I now know as 1st stage labour pains - at least they didn't get past 1st stage until they hooked me up to a drip and basically told my body, and him, it was time. After 5 minutes on that drip I think I went from 1st stage pain to 3rd in about 5 minutes unfortunately though it still took hours. I felt pinned to the bed with pain and really didn't know what to do. He finally arrived, and all I said over and over is "he is so beautiful".