Autism Hope is… any progress made at all!

Only three more days left in the lovely month of April Autism Month and I am sad because I am certainly not finished sharing all that I have learned in our almost 18 years of living with our au-some boy Ben ♥ So I’ll just keep on writing until I am done sharing ☻I hope you enjoy the new design of the blog, Camille was here this weekend and obviously she is the master behind the changes. I am convinced kids nowadays come completely hardwired for advanced technology. Even Ben can do things with computers and video games that I certainly cannot. Anyway, thank you Camie, I love it! Good luck back in Provo once again for Spring term ☼

Today I would like to share that, with autism, any progress made is great. Even the little things are a big deal! What one might have taken for granted with a typical child, like learning to tie shoes or drinking from a cup, becomes such a huge learning ordeal with some kids with autism. With autism, hope is any progress made, any milestone reached!

Celebrate the little things because one day, you’ll realize they were the big things…

♪♫ This entry of the Kingsbury Journal certainly does just that! ♫♪

 Potty Training Woes

June 2001

Angelique had been potty trained for a while already, a couple of years if my memory does not fail me. Ben was still in diapers, he was around six years old. I was beyond tired of changing diapers on that huge child, especially messy ones. But nothing had worked. Not the videos the therapists had brought for us to watch with him, I still can sing the silly song about being a “super pooper”! Not the rewards for sitting on the toilet... Nothing. Not even Angelique, ever so eager to help and show Ben her big girl panties every chance she got while twirling in her skirts, nothing caught his attention. Well, he could hum along with the “super pooper” song, awesome...

One day, needing to change Ben’s messy diaper, I asked him to lie down on the floor as usual but he would not cooperate and was especially squirmy, even more than usual. Either that or I was more tired that day. I continued to try to change the diaper. He kicked me square in the chest. Now a six year old kick is pretty powerful, but in the chest? I was in tears.

Ben stopped dead in his tracks. I proceeded with the diaper change, sobbing and blabbering on and on about how I simply couldn’t go on having to change his diapers, that he was a big boy now and that he had to start using the toilet and that he had hurt me so much and on and on...

I was a mess. He looked at me with eyes as round as the moon and of course I felt like a fool, blubbering like that to my autistic boy who didn’t understand me. Poor baby. It wasn’t his fault. I gave him a hug and a kiss and sent him on his way. I pulled myself together and wondered if I should be taking a nap?

The next day, in the midst of  “one of those days” where it seems that all goes wrong, the whole week attacks you at once and nothing feels right, Ben came back from Kindergarten and announced in his clipped style –he was about six at the time– : “Underwear!”, meaning he wanted to start wearing real underpants. Now, I didn’t know if those had been the object of a lesson at school that week, but already his favorite stuffed animal of the moment, Mickey Mouse, was donning a nice pair of colorful big boy underwear.

I looked at Ben dubiously but his little face was set, he meant business. Well, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to go chasing after underwear, help him out of his diaper, into the briefs, only to have to clean up a big mess afterwards. So I answered: “They are in your chest of drawers.” I thought, “Well, that’s the end of that, he’ll never find them.” This is the child who never finds anything we send him to get.

I was wrong, he returned a few seconds later with the package of underpants in hand. Wow, impressive! Then he said: “Help!” and gestured that he wanted me to help him put them on him. I thought, “Yeah right, been there done that, not in the mood for cleaning up messes tonight, no.” So I thought we’d just put those over the diaper. Ben almost had a conniption fit when he realized what I was trying to do.

“NO, NO!” he cried, and he gestured at me and took his diaper off. I fell into the couch. Fine, I let him do as he wanted and see if he could put on the underpants on his own, maybe he couldn’t... Well, he could after all! Then he put his shorts back on. And I thought, “Great, now if he has an accident, I won’t even know!” But I was just too tired to fight him, his little face was determined and I wasn’t about to let him have a full blown temper tantrum just before homework time for Camie and dinner time. I would just have to watch him like a hawk and see.

He did very well. I took him to the bathroom before dinner and he went. I was astounded. Then the rest of the evening was fine as well. Of course I was holding my breath the whole time. At night I wanted to put a diaper on him, again he fought me and wouldn’t let me: “ No, big boy pants!” I thought, “Wow, they’re really turning on the heat on those kids at school and motivating them to wear real underwear!” It was great, but who was going to have to wash the sheets tomorrow morning? I just didn’t have the faith I should have had.

I fell in bed after saying my prayers and couldn’t stop my mind racing about Ben insisting on wearing his “big boy underpants”. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. My sobbing fit the day before! I had carried on and on about him needing to use the toilet, that he was a big boy now... Could it possibly be that he understood me? Maybe Ben couldn’t say much but his comprehension wasn’t that much further behind than his peers? That had to be the reason why.

In a way I was ashamed of myself for having acted that way in front of Ben but then again, hey, if it had finally motivated him to potty train to see mom at the end of her rope, why not? I shouldn’t be too proud to show my feelings, right? God gives us weaknesses so that they might become strengths!

And this is the true story of how Ben became toilet trained. He never went back to diapers, did not have very many accidents during the day and almost never at night. It was a miracle given to a frazzled mom by a merciful Father in Heaven, through a little boy who couldn’t talk much but who could understand more than he could express and wanted to please his mom.

It was Ben’s way to show me he loved me and wanted to help me help him. It also helped me realize the depth of Ben’s true understanding of what was going on in the world around him.

He seemed to be in his own shell most of the time, unaware of what was going on around him, certainly an inactive participant most of the time or a reluctant bystander. But that day proved to me that, little by little, the walls around him were breaking down, we were finally reaching him. Hope in all its glory could shine bright on my little boy.