Eight with Asperger's

 {This is a long and probably boring entry; I have just needed a little outlet.}

As Clara has grown older, the challenges of Asperger's and ADHD have been brought into greater focus. When she was younger, if she didn't look at someone while they were talking to her, or if she growled or made silly noises or just flat-out ignored them completely, it wasn't quite the social faux-pas that it is now that she is older. An eight-year-old who answers, "What do you want?" in a terse voice when someone calls to wish her a happy birthday, for example, is considered rude, while it might be considered funny or even cute on a three- or four-year-old. But at least she spoke to them on the phone; there have been plenty of times when she refused to talk at all.

The group games of P.E., the outside activities like riding a bike or a scooter, the intricacies of crafts that are ubiquitous with this age and older--all these things are not easy for Clara and make fitting in even more of a challenge. And let's not even get into the challenges of school.

A big event like an eighth birthday party with seven other girls her age brings out the discrepancies on a fuller scale. While the other girls are running around in the garage playing, Clara comes running inside crying because (I'm still not quite sure what happened) she was riding on her wagon and someone else wanted to take a turn. Or she refuses to take a turn in the "Guess the Kitchen Object" game. Or she hides when the first guests come. The list goes on. {But at least she blew out her candles in front of her friends!}

Fortunately, with time I am becoming tougher-skinned to these embarrassing situations. Don't get me wrong; I sometimes still get very embarrassed--especially when she ignores sweet older girls at church who say hello to her, or she says something that doesn't make sense to our future neighbors when we want so badly for her to make friends in our new neighborhood. However, I don't cry about it like I used to, and now I try to guide her through these situations instead of beating myself up about how if I were teaching her better, she'd have figured it out by now. {I did learn, though, from the birthday party that I need to stop correcting her in front of others because that affects the way they see her; if I make a big deal out of something, then other kids will notice something that they otherwise would probably have been oblivious to.}I don't always handle things the way I know I should, but I think I'm getting better gradually.

A kid on the autism spectrum doesn't have "theory of mind;" it doesn't come naturally for them to think about what someone else might be thinking, or how their actions or words might affect someone else. It is a very egocentric disorder with its deficits in the two most important parts of human interaction: social behavior and communication.

A friend of mine was telling me how her sister-in-law is going to be having a Down's Syndrome baby and how pretty much everyone who has a child with Down's just loves that child so much and how special they are. The tough thing about a child with autism is that they aren't always quite so easy to love, and they don't have the different appearance that makes people immediately aware of their condition. Instead, an Aspie looks like other kids and then surprises you out of nowhere with unpredictable, bizarre behavior and communication.

I have tried (sometimes subconsciously) to try to go along next to Clara, apologizing for her moodiness and overcompensating to her friends and other adults and doing all that I could to smooth the way so that she could be successful. But that is only going to get harder as the social expectations become higher. So now there is the question: Is it time for me to step back (a little) and (gulp) not step in to prompt her when someone speaks to her? Do I let her flounder and come in and cry when she has hurt feelings on a playdate, or do I go and play with her and her playmate to make a semi-normal interaction possible?

I certainly don't want to imply discouragement by all of this. I am not discouraged. I am becoming more objective and am becoming better at not allowing her behavior to be a reflection of me. Clara is herself. She is a wonderful girl with a wonderful, powerful spirit. She truly desires to please. She has so much potential. She is incredibly affectionate and wants to be with us. She is perfectly forgiving and never holds a grudge. She humbly does what we ask, even if it takes seven or eight times asking her. She is gradually learning to be independent. She has a lovely memory for names. She notices when people's emotions change, even if she doesn't understand why. She loves her little brother. She adores her father. And she loves her Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. And we love her dearly, as do many others.

I am not going to pretend that I don't wish she was neurotypical; I am not going to lie and say I don't envy the mother-daughter relationship that I see others have. But I do know that we will have a wonderful relationship in our perfected, resurrected bodies and that the things we learn here, the relationship that we grow here on earth will be a terrific foundation for the glorious one we'll have in the hereafter. She knew, and I knew, that her mortal tabernacle would be a challenge, and we welcomed that challenge, knowing it would help perfect us.

I don't know what the future holds; I used to worry and worry and sometimes still do. But my faith is growing stronger, and my motto for this year is a quote from President Monson: "The future is as bright as your faith." It is going to be an amazing future, and I know that whatever happens will be a blessing to us as long as we use our trials and our blessings on our journey to become like the Savior.

So bring it on. It's going to be great!