First Entry

Dear Marilyn,
It's almost been a week since you were diagnosed with autism. When the doctor first broke the news to me, it seemed like the world completely stopped. Everything she said to me after became incoherent. I didn't cry at first because it was still completely shocking to me. It did occur to me that maybe you did have autism, but you did some things that made me think otherwise. You are very smart. You can distinguish some feelings. Whenever I cry, you do wipe my eyes and tell me, "no cry". Whenever you see everyone smile, you also smile.  It did worry me when you wouldn't talk, but the reason I stopped worrying was because I knew eventually you would talk when you felt like it. Besides, Albert Einstein didn't talk until he was four years old, right? The thing that finally made me realize that maybe there was something wrong was when you wouldn't look at me in the eyes. When you did look at me in the eyes, you would look for a couple of seconds, then look away from me. I remember people would suggest that you have autism. I remember thinking, "Who the hell are they to tell me what the hell my daughter has?!? Do they have a diploma stating they are a doctor? Why don't they mind their own business?" I remember clenching my jaw a couple of times whenever the subject was brought up. Another thing that would make me angry was whenever you threw a temper tantrum. I wasn't mad at you, I was mad at the people who were staring at you like you were a bad kid. I knew that the reason you screamed and yelled was because you couldn't talk and explain what you wanted. I didn't know what to do. All kids throw temper tantrums so I didn't suspect anything was wrong. I also didn't think anything was wrong whenever we had birthday parties and you would leave the party to go inside and watch TV. I thought maybe there were too many people and I'm also shy myself so I didn't think anything of it.

On our way out of the doctor's office, I began to cry. I couldn't stop myself from crying because I was worried about you. I was worried about your future. All these questions came into my head: Are the kids going to make fun of you because of your disability? Would you ever make friends? What would happen to you if something happened to me or your Dad?, Would your sister take care of you or have to look after you the rest of your life? Would you ever get married? Would you have children of your own?  I cried for two days straight. I didn't cry for me, I cried because I knew that you'd have a challenging life ahead of you.

After I got my emotions under control, I thought it was best to move forward. I began making your appointment to get your therapy underway. I began looking at all the information on autism. I even bought some books and began reading some more on the subject. I tried playing games and doing things that would help you. I was doing everything in my power to help you overcome autism.

I could ask God for another "normal" child, but I wouldn't even consider it. I love you so much the way you are. Not every child can sing almost all the Lady Gaga songs. I especially love it when you sing, "Bad Romance" and do your little hand motions whenever she goes, "Rah, Rah, Rah". It's especially amusing when you memorize all the lines to a movie and reenact it. I love the way you try to cheer me up whenever I have a bad day. I love it when you wipe my tears whenever I cry. I love that you try to hug almost every baby you see so tight. I love that you give me kisses when I ask you to (unlike your sister). I love the way you say "Dora", "Doe-dah". It sounds like you have a little Latin accent whenever you say it. I love everything about you and wouldn't change you at all. You may have autism, but you are normal to me. I will always love you.
 I hope you always know that.

I also hope you know that I will always be here for you. I'll be here for you whenever you are upset about something. I'll be there for you when you're having the best moments of your life and the worst. I will never abandon you! Don't you ever forget that. Now that you know that, I'll finally end this letter.


Love Always and Forever,
Mommy