When I first realized Cooper was delayed I became obsessed with finding another kiddo like him. And to take it one step father onto the crazy train that I was riding…I wanted that kid to be healed. Or fixed. Or however you want to put it.
I needed to find a kid that was nonverbal at 3 who ended up talking and leading a normal life.
Now, don’t freak out on me here…but I have yet to find that kid. And I gave up looking since Cooper was diagnosed. My heart couldn’t take it anymore. That shit’s emotionally draining. The ups and downs and hopes and blah, blah, blah.
I would find a blog and read the whole entire thing from start to finish.
I remember one time specifically.
I was hiding in the basement and I stumbled upon this post on Bringing Up Boys. This women doesn’t blog anymore and you can see by the date that she hasn’t since May of 2013. This post was the end for me. It was the realest thing I have ever read. She says, “I wish I could tell you that Cooper has made some miraculous recovery.” Yes, her son is named Cooper too. Maybe that’s why I love it so much.
And then she wrote…”but he’s not.”
I read her whole freaking blog that night. I remember she would blog about other topics or her NT kids and I would get mad. I needed more about her Cooper. I needed to know exactly what he was like. I became obsessed.
And then I remember I made a deal with myself. I was like…‘they way she is describing her Cooper sounds a million times better than what I could ever imagine my Cooper’s life to be.’ I’ll take it. Please God let my Cooper turn out ok. I don’t need him to be perfect. Or the smartest or whatever. I just need him to be ok. Not perfect. Just…ok.
I want my blog to be hope for people. I have a lot of readers. I can see that in my analytics. And I can also see when when a person reads my blog from start to finish. And I ALWAYS picture them sitting in a big recliner with a glass of wine or cup of coffee. It’s usually a mom in my mind. And she’s varying between crying and laughing and hoping. Maybe her child is nonverbal. Or Autistic. Or maybe even has a hearing loss. For whatever reason she found me and Cooper’s story.
And she’s looking for hope. God I wish I could give that to her. I want to be that for her.
But I don’t know if I am there yet.
Cooper is going to have autism for the rest of his life.
It’s not fucking fair. Sorry. It’s just such a heavy diagnosis to put on a 3 year old. He’s just a baby and he has this thing…this stigma…that will ALWAYS be with him.
He will be autistic at 6 and 10 and 40. It won’t go away. As much as I hope it just won’t.
Cooper had an amazing week and then Thursday he had meltdown after meltdown. He was exhausted and he couldn’t take it anymore. I felt like saying. “Hello autism. Oh, how I haven’t missed you.”
I don’t know what the end game is here. When do I allow myself to accept that that his future could be nonverbal one. He might not have friends. Or a girlfriend. He might never care about life.
Someday I want to post on here that we made it. That my family survived autism. I want to say that Cooper is thriving and that he has the most loving and protective brother ever. I want to say that my marriage is so much stronger because of this. And that I wouldn’t have changed it for a second. And that I wouldn’t change Cooper.
I can’t see it yet friends. But I’m sure as hell trying.
So hang on with me. I even promise to throw in a little hope now and then.