Friday, June 15, 2012
JT's whole life I've spent worried.
He got here by the Audrey of God, by wriggling his little fingers under the cord wrapped not just once, but twice tightly around his neck.
He ate a penny that got lodged in his esophagus at 9 months.
He broke his arm at 18 months by falling out of a lawn chair.
Then autism came.
And the big worries.
Will he ever be okay? Have friends? A girlfriend? A girl that likes him? Go to school with typical kids? Do anything typical? Will he be happy?
In the past 6 months, several of those questions have been answered.
He is now mainstreamed for the vast majority of his day. In summer camp, of course, he's with typical peers all day. One worry that is slowly disintegrating, and one happy, happy mama.
He has real friends. Real friends at school, and now at camp. They like him for him. They are genuinely concerned with how he's doing. They are determined to make him part of their world. Another check off my list, and elation is an understatement.
This week, a little girl told Audrey that "I 'like-like' JT, and I think he's cute." While this slightly mortified Audrey, it made my heart soar a little more.
He is a happy kid. He loves people. He tells me his favorite color now is green. He names his little Lego people (the aerobics instructor, by the way, is now Jane). He kisses his camp teacher's hand every single day and follows her around to help.
My worries are slowly changing.
I still worry about whether or not he'll have a good day, whether he'll get upset. But I know he'll be okay.
Now they're turning into the same worries I had with Audrey.
Will he do well in First Grade? Will he make new friends easily? Will he be able to master the material?
There are only a few big worries left that keep me up at night.
For now, I'll thank God and the universe for all the amazing people here that walk with my baby and hold his hand. Because they have such an important role in our lives, and they step up every time. We have one extraordinary extended support system.
photo found here