How do you measure a year?

525,600 minutes. . . 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes. How do you measure a year?

Those are words from one of my all time favorite songs, Seasons of Love from the wonderful musical Rent. How do YOU measure a year?

I have asked myself this question a lot the last few days as exactly one year ago today, Charlie was officially diagnosed with autism. It's been a bittersweet kind of day as I have reflected on his progress as well as his setbacks. I'm not sure where I thought we would be a year into this journey. Of course, a parent always hopes for optimal outcomes as quickly as possible. But, that is not the name of this game. Still, it is HARD to be patient. I have learned to be happy with even small break throughs. . . actually, they don't seem so small to me.

People often ask me about Charlie's progress. It's hard sometimes for me to explain it, especially to those who are not familiar with autism. Some things may seem so trivial to them, and I sometimes get the blank look in response when I explain that overall he is just "more aware" or his "receptive skills" are very good. Or even when I get so excited when he REALLY hugs me back or uses even one word in an appropriate way. Even Adam often comments that he doesn't see progress. . . I think, though, that he is just hoping to wake up one morning and see big changes, and, in all likelihood, that just ain't gonna happen. Slow and steady . . . it's a hard lesson when you have a child with autism. You find yourself obsessing about the future. . . and getting all stressed out in the process.

Will he ever ask me a question?
Will he ever be able to have a conversation with me?
Will he have friends?
Will he be mainstreamed in school?
Will he be able to live independently?
Will he ever fall in love?
Will anyone ever fall in love with him?
WILL HE BE HAPPY?????

In the end, that's all I want as a parent. I want my child to be happy. I see now that we will likely take a different route to get there, but whatever it takes. Overall, I think we handle the day to day challenges of autism very well. Not to say we don't get down, because we most definitely do. Some days, when the behavior is off the charts (as we have had recently with a phase of aggressive behaviors such as pinching, scratching and pulling hair), I just want to sit in a corner and give up. But, thankfully, those days are few, and when one of us is having a weak moment, the other one steps in and takes care of things.

But, I also admit to moments of terror on my part. Moments that, in the midst of going about my daily business, kick me in the stomach and take my breath away. Seemingly out of nowhere. Those same questions above. And others. Will other kids make fun of him? Will he know they are making fun of him? Will he ever have a girlfriend, assuming he ever wants one? Will he ever know how to play with other children? Or, for that matter, will he ever really know how to play with a toy in an appropriate way ever again? Will he ever get his attention span back again? WILL HE BE HAPPY?? Thoughts like this have even woken me up at night from deep sleep. I run in and look at Charlie while he sleeps, and it makes me feel better.

And, I admit to other, more selfish questions. . . Like. . Will he ever be able to eat food without making a HUGE mess? Will he ever stop throwing the couch cushions all over the floor all day long? (He likes to get under the cushions, probably for the sensation of having them against him.) Will he ever stop mouthing things all the time? Will I ever NOT feel totally exhausted? Will I ever feel totally comfortable at someone else's house instead of feeling like I need to be on top of him all of the time? Will I ever not leave a birthday party or other gathering of his "typical" peers and not feel a little depressed? Where the hell did all of his language GO?? What the heck happened to his attention span? How did I get here?? :)

It's been an up and down ride this year. Sometimes it's hard for me to share these personal thoughts, but this is what it means to have a child with autism. These are our daily concerns. . . But if you look closely, they're not all that different from a parent of a "typically developing" child. . . albeit a little more extreme on our end.

But the positives far outweigh the negatives. We have seen some great things from Charlie over this last year. He is slowly gaining back the language that he lost, and more and more using it in an appropriate context. He seems to have a general understanding of some social situations. For example, this evening he pinched Addison a little too hard which was not intentional on his part. She cried, and I fussed at him. He saw Addison crying and looked really concerned. He started crying, too and appeard to feel bad for making his sister upset. He definitely understands language better than he used to, and will even listen to you from across the room or from upstairs. (Big development considering how "spaced out" he once was, requiring you to call his name over and over and usually get up in his face to get his attention.) He now sits at circle time, hangs up his own back pack, unzips his own lunch box, helps put on his own pants and shirt (and, can almost do this by himself), and is making great strides in the potty department. We still have lots of work to do in many areas. It's not going to be easy, especially when faced with Charlie's sensory issues and extremely short attention span, but we're learning every day to be patient while pushing him to do his best.

This has been a hard year. It's still hard for me to believe that it's only been one year. With all of the changes and everything we have learned, it is almost mind boggling that it has all occurred within the span of one year. But, even though it's been rough, I still wouldn't classify it as bad. We're on this path, whether we chose it or not. So, we have to make the most of it. One positive of autism -- it truly makes you appreciate the little things. When Charlie says "mommy" clearly, it makes my eyes a little misty. When he has a good potty day, I am in a good mood. When he runs to me and hugs me, it makes my heart swell so much it feels like it will burst. We NEVER take these things for granted anymore. It is all so precious.

So, how would I measure this first year on our autism journey? In resilience? Lord knows it has taken oodles of that to make it through. . . In patience. . . we've needed an endless supply of that and will continue to do so. I'm tempted to measure it in hope, as we are certainly hopeful every day. We can never let go of hope without giving up on our son.

While all of these would be appropriate measures for this year, I think I will follow the lead of my favorite song and measure in LOVE. In this regard, this year could only measure as boundless.