I met a friend the other day as I was taking my daughter, Naomi
to the children’s museum. My friend,
Mary and I, were both surprised to see each other and we caught up a little on
each other’s lives. Years ago we were
both part of an infertility support group.
We ended up getting pregnant around the same time. I
hadn’t seen Mary since Naomi’s diagnosis of ASD 5 years ago. Naomi immediately went to her daughter’s jacket and started stimming on her
zipper.
“I don’t’ know if you knew, “ I said to Mary, “ but Naomi
was diagnosed with autism.”
“Yes, I had heard that,” Mary said. “How’s that going?”
“Not good,” I
said. “But you have to play the cards
you’re dealt and this is my hand. “
I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. If I open them wide
enough and distract myself, I can keep them from running down my cheeks. I look down toward the pavement as if I am
checking out Mary’s daughter’s footwear. I hope that she’s not looking at
me. I’m really feeling on the brink and
I don’t want to break down here and now.
That would be awkward to say the least.
If Mary noticed anything she didn't say so. We manage to get back to talking about other
people with whom we lost touch, the diversions for our kids, school, childcare
and other mom talk, until we wander away with our kids in different
directions. There’s a palpable pain in my heart and my
gut. I feel awful. What the hell is wrong with me? 6 years later and I still can’t handle
this? I tell People about Naomi’s
condition every day. Why was this time
so painful?
A half hour later Naomi has a meltdown and I’m so glad that Mary
is nowhere nearby. Wow! Some days it
hurts more than I even knew.
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