My Teenager

Whenever our children have a birthday we tend to say, "where did the time go?", and I'm no exception. But the last thirteen years have rolled by for us, each one having something significant to look back on. I know, compared to some children with autism, that Amy has had it relatively easy but that hasn't been achieved without outside help from the authorities and constant care from me. I'm not going to pat myself on the back because it's my job as a parent to make sure Amy has everything she needs, but to think that before she arrived in this world I was probably the least maternal person to have ever lived, I'm quite pleased that I've become the type of mother who rolls up sleeves, stands firm and does not give up when it comes to my child's welfare. She has a condition that simply means she's wired differently. It isn't contagious. It doesn't make her a lesser person. She doesn't deserve to be avoided. Yet people over the years, have gone to great lengths to avoid us, particularly soon after the diagnosis was made. People shake their heads in our direction, they stare, they judge, they comment. They can. It's their prerogative as a fellow human being. But it's my prerogative as a parent to ignore them. 

Amy shakes these people off. She learned to ignore them years before I did. She's the one I commend, she's the one I pat on the back, she's the better person. 

Autism is a challenge. It can be bloody hard work. It can be restrictive. It can be heartbreaking. But only if you let it be. I don't look at my daughter and think "you're different." I look at her and think "you're Amy."

I have no other children to compare her to yet I know she is blessed with a wonderful life, an exciting future and a loving family. She might not become an astronaut or a physicist, she might not be the next Einstein. But she's Amy. And today, she's thirteen. A teenager. I may eat these words one day but the joy she brings me on a daily basis is all the back patting I need. After all, I brought her up. 

Happy Birthday to my gorgeous teenager. 

3rd January 2000