Shocking
So how about that Michael Savage, huh. I have to admit, I’d never heard of him, although I went from complete ignorance of his existence to utterly dismissing his existence in the time it took me to read this article. Basically, he said that kids diagnosed with autism are just badly parented. (It was a bit more, you know, shock-jocky than that, but that was the gist.)
This hit home particularly hard because it’s on the heels of a strong suggestion (from an occupational therapist who’s been working with Daniel this summer) that Daniel has Aspergers Syndrome. We still have to decide whether we will go get a proper diagnosis, but I’ve run the thought past another handful of professional type people who know Daniel and the consensus is that he very likely does. And if he does, well, it’s not like the idea that he’s autistic comes out of the blue. It’s always been there, sort of lurking in the shadows. Does he? Doesn’t he? What then, is going on? Why, then, does he behave like this, react like this? Why is he like this?
And throughout it all, I have off and on wondered whether I was to blame. Whether I could be making things better if I were a better mother. Whether I was simply doing my job badly. Whether I had somehow created the patterns of behavior that look oh so much like spoiled-brat syndrome. But when an idiot takes my hidden fear and uses it to dismiss a whole slew of suffering children and their parents, well, it sort of shows up that it’s a ridiculous idea.
It is shocking to hear echoes of what an idiot preaches in my own head to find that soft, white mushroom of doubt growing in me. And I wish I could uproot it entirely and cast it away. A diagnosis would almost be a relief. There IS something. The something we started seeing when he was only days old. The something we’ve been trying to help, trying to understand for his whole life. The something that sits in the room with us like an invisible dragon waiting to flame. And a diagnosis would contain within it the relief that I am not a bad mother. Some things cannot be parented away. No amount of love can change a person’s brain chemistry, their physiology.
I do know that autism is real, that Daniel struggles, that we have poured ourselves into helping him. I don’t know why the suggestion that there might be something really there, something with an actual name to it, bothers me when I also know it would be a relief.
But then, I don’t know why compete arseholes have their own radio programs and think that they’re geniuses.
As the mother of a very challenging child, I understand the need to blame myself for his issues. Because if it’s all my fault then all I have to do is shape up and everything will be fine, won’t it?
I can’t begin to understand Michael Savage, though.
When my sister learned that her 2.5 yo was on the autism spectrum she said “it changes everything, and it changes nothing.”
and Savage? Even our grandma, who has made an insensitive comment or two to my sister, asked me if I’d heard what that idiot said today.
Michael Savage is a moron.
My 12-year-old daughter has been … difficult … different … weird … for much of her life. A lot of it I didn’t notice until I met my husband, and he had a hard time with some of her, um, quirks.
Someone a couple years ago suggested Aspergers. I wasn’t sure. She now lives with her dad in a different state (when we had to move for my husband’s job, she wanted to stay where she was, where she had extended family and friends), and after her summer visit, and reading more about Aspergers, I think that’s probably it. Knowing there is likely something wrong with the wiring, and not just that I’m an awful mom, is a huge relief to me.
The trick now will be to get a diagnosis and treatment, since her dad does not think there is a problem, and is very difficult himself, but that’s just because he’s a jerk.
Good luck. I recently read a memoir of someone who has Aspergers, and if you think this is going to impact your family, it’s worth a read. It’s called “Born on a Blue Day.” If I still had it I’d send it to you.
Remembering that he is the same kid with or without diagnosis, and that the diagnosis of anything doesn’t define who he is…well, I think I learned how important that is from you in some of your past posts. Denying any issues he has would be closing your eyes to who he is, too. I can’t imagine any better parenting than recognizing a child intensely, as you do with your son.
Missing your voice in cyberspace. Must see you soon irl. (Next month, maybe?)
Autism is no easy diagnosis. Neither is Alzheimer’s. We don’t understand these things; we can’t figure out the REASON.
Years of history has been spent on figuring out the reason. We beat ourselves up over the reason. We’ve institutionalized thousands of people because we are so baffled by them, and scared, and confused.
Mr Savage is afraid of autism and tired of bad parents. I guess he lumped them all together to make a pretty bad correlation.
Autism has nothing to do with parenting. It might not have anything to do with genes. It might have everything to do with our world.
But we can’t change our world in one great big leap. So we just do what we can do within our sphere. And we can love our kids for who they are, for what they see, for all their dreams. And we can give them safe homes and boundaries and discipline.
And we can just love one another, simply and wholly.
Echoing Fritz, autism has nothing to do with parenting. It may have nothing to do with genetics. It may or may not have something to do with our environment. It happens because of the biological crap-shoot that is pregnancy. You did nothing wrong. You are not responsible for Daniel’s potentially having Asperger’s. You are responsible for loving him, raising him to be a healthy human being, and making his world safe for him.
Autism, Aspergers – they are just labels. They don’t make the person, or affect the situation they find themselves in. What they *can* do, is help create ‘shortcuts’ for other people around them, to understand more of how the person with the label might be experiencing things, and how things we do might help or hinder them in their experiences.
It was the 50′s when autism was also called ‘refridgerator mother’ syndrome. An idea which was knocked on it’s head in the 70′s when some actual proper theories (triad of impairment, theory of mind etc) were developed – and they’ve been further developed since then! If that nagging ‘I’m must be a bad parent’ voice comes back, tell it to get with the times
Besides I’ve met Daniel – one day was enough to see that he’s gorgeous. Inside and out. (but I’m telling you nothing you don’t already know there!
Not your fault, not your fault — and what a stupid, stupid thing for him to say — don’t you for a minute think there is any sense to be had in his words. You are a wonderful mother, and you know it. Find that inside yourself, and hold onto it. Period.