Everyone everywhere has something that keeps them waking up and moving forward. For me it's Lex. Don't get me wrong I would still have a life if Lex wasn't here but it would be a very different life, one I can't even begin to imagine.
Every day with Lex is it's own adventure, not because he has special needs but because he's a headstrong, rough and tumble 3 year old. Some days the adventure is extremely trying, we both end up in tears and can't begin to look for the sunshine through the clouds and then there are days where I can't imagine that he was never a part of my daily life. Today was definitely the latter.
He has been making some small strides in speech the last few days repeating "yellow" (yell-ew) and "joker" (jo-cur) shortly after I told him what color his car was and the name of the Batman character he brought me. Last night he started saying "please" (peas) while signing it to ask for things.
Today he didn't say please as much but we had another small success, he asked me to bring him to the bathroom (grabbed my hand and pulled me that way) after handing me a pull up. I helped him get situated so he could sit on the toilet and gave him his potty book. A few seconds later I heard a few drops hit the toilet water, he did it! Now up to this point Lex had been iffy on his willingness to sit on the toilet for me, he'd do it only if I encouraged him and brought him in and sat with him.
I think we may be rounding a corner with him when it comes to self help skills and speech, a very exciting thing for me (and him).
Even on days that aren't like today I live to take care of this little boy. I do as much research about autism and sensory integration disorder as my free time allows (to steal Jenny McCarthy's idea I would definitely have a graduate degree in Google research) so I can have a glimmer of an idea to what life holds for him, a glimmer of what he could be seeing or experiencing in any given day.
I love sitting in his bedroom and playing with his cars and blocks and whatever he's interested in at the moment even if he's not into playing with me. I live to hear every attempt at speech, see every new skill and celebrate every new success.
Things that don't come easy are worth the effort, the frustration is worth it, even the tears and temper tantrums are worth it. Those things give me a better idea of who Lex is, what matters to him and tells me just how important everything I do with him really is.
Sure there are days where I would kill for him to be like other kids his age, talking, able to understand that I'm not just saying no but explaining why he can't stick the knife in the outlet.
But in the end Lex is Lex, a kid with autism and sensory integration disorder, a volatile temper (just like his mom), a strong desire to do what he wants, big beautiful blue eyes and an amazing sense of humor (and awesome laugh to go with it).
Lex is the child I never thought I'd have.
For good or bad he will always be my miracle.