Autism: “The Blessing”
“One day you will see. This will become a blessing. You will understand why this happened to your family, and you’ll look back and not wish to change one thing.”
These are the inspirational and uplifting words a mommy-friend shared with me at what was the lowest time in my life: 2000, the year we were told our son had autism. All I could muster to say back to her was, “Yeah…right.”
Developing typically alongside his twin sister, at 19 months, like a needle scratched abruptly off a record, our son RJ had stopped responding to and connecting with us. A mainstream exclusive pre-school kicked our little man out deeming him “unteachable.” A developmental pediatrician told us it was unlikely he’d become “meaningfully” verbal in any appropriate way, that he wouldn’t mainstream in school and it’d be a miracle if he made any real friends. As for his future: according to her, he’d be incapable of living on his own or have a meaningful job. Then it came like a flaming spear in the gut: He will never say, unprompted, “I Love You, Mommy.”
Painful times with not much hope in sight. So you can imagine, how, in the face of all of this negativity and hopelessness, the well-meaning words from my mommy-friend sounded so utterly unfathomable and unbelievable at the time. I tried, but could never envision a scenario where I could classify this “curse” (what I used to call autism) as a blessing.
…Now… a decade later.
During our annual family trip to New York last summer, we finally understood it.
My husband, our four kids and I were standing in line for the Ferris wheel at Toys“R”Us Times Square (Peete family NY trips are not complete until we ride it - several times!) when a family approached us and said: “Sorry to bother you, but we just want to thank you for giving us hope for our daughter.”
There, in front of us, was a father holding his beautiful 9-year-old daughter with autism. His wife by his side was holding the hand of a younger daughter seemingly neurotypical. Dad was struggling with holding his daughter – she was heavy and squirming with a pacifier in her mouth. But he was all smiles. So was mom. They were just authentically grateful to have the chance to thank us for sharing our story and went on to tell us that by sharing some of RJ’s milestones, his mini-defeats over the laundry list of ‘nevers’ we were told that day in 2000, that it helped them keep their heads up and forge ahead. They mentioned that with the 80% divorce rate autism brings, that they’ve been inspired and encouraged by our ability to weather this storm together.
We then had a great big “double-family-Toys“R”Us-group-hug” and in that moment, I got it. I got exactly what that mommy-friend was saying all those years ago. At that moment, I was actually glad autism descended upon us so that we could put a smile on the face of that couple as well as the countless others, giving them a template of hope to help them through this journey. It felt so good. And, dare I say it: “Thank you” autism for helping us find our life’s call to service.
Don’t get me wrong – we still experience colossal moments of difficulty. RJ is 12 years old entering puberty; there have been some discouraging regression after all of the encouraging milestones. But this battle has given my husband and me so much conviction, so many spiritual rewards and abundant opportunities to tangibly ease the pain of others. In a word: a Blessing.
Holly Robinson Peete
Autism Speaks Board Member
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