My son doesn’t talk and does not use his communication device for many things other than demands. I often feel like I have to be a mind reader to figure him out. He’s often patient with me, helping me along using nonverbal communication. Other times, he melts down because I guess wrong or don’t know what the problem is. Then I have to play detective to figure out what started it and how to fix it.
An IEP meeting always fills me with anxiety. I feel like there is so much riding on that one document, and I absolutely have to get it right. The last few have been great because the teachers and therapists all know and work with my son, and the school he’s at has great supports. However, we weren’t always so lucky.
One day a few years ago, my kids and I were playing in the backyard. When it came time to come in, I couldn’t find my son. I ran through the gate and checked up and down our street, then searched inside the house. My daughter was there and she didn’t know where he was either. I ran into the backyard again, and that’s when I finally saw him — he was under the porch stairs, sitting in a covered wagon and patiently waiting for me to pull him around the neighborhood. He never once made a sound.
That’s when I thought it would be good for him to wear a tracker.
My son, like many others on the spectrum, has issues with sleep. He has trouble winding down at the end of the day and wakes up at all hours of the night. Sometimes he can go back to sleep, other times, he’s done sleeping — no matter what time it is. And when he is done sleeping, I’m also done sleeping.
This time of year, it is hard to be consistent. Holidays, snow days, early dismissals/late arrivals, and illnesses can make life unpredictable. For those of us with kids who thrive on routine, schedule disruptions can cause serious behavior issues, meltdowns, or even regression.
For disability purposes, the terms elopement and wandering are often interchangeable. They mean essentially the same thing: when someone leaves the safety of a location or responsible caregiver. To me, wandering seems like an accident, like when a child wanders away from their mother at the store. That’s scary, for sure, but it doesn’t sound intentional. Elopement, on the other hand, feels like it can carry the weight of my fear. That’s the term I prefer, because elopement scares me. According to the CDC, half of the parents with an autistic child report at least one instance of elopement, a quarter of which stated the incident lasted long enough to cause concern. Almost one in five people with autism who wander are not found until it is too late. That is a terrifying statistic.
Do you chew on pencils? Twirl your hair? Push the button repeatedly on click-pens? What about tapping your fingers or your leg? If you do any of these, or any other fidgety kinds of behavior, guess what? You’re stimming. We all do it to some extent. So why is it mostly associated with people who have autism?
If you’ve recently received an autism diagnosis for your child, there’s probably a lot going through your mind. Take a deep breath and just pause for a moment. I have a few things you might need to hear.
Today is my son’s birthday. I often put pressure on myself to do traditional birthday things for him. My daughter enjoys her birthday. She loves being greeted with banners and balloons the moment she wakes up, so I decorate the house for her. There’s always a balloon tied to her seat at the dining room table and a favorite breakfast waiting for her. Later, there is a party with friends and family; cake with lots of candles; presents; singing; and tons of attention.