July 3, 2012

July 3, 2012

I remember walking into the doctor’s office with my husband, Eric and trying to stay calm, my hands were clammy, knots were twisting and turning inside of my stomach all while I tried to keep my game face on. I was just here a couple days earlier with my sweet boy letting him be observed and evaluated – the doctor watched him line up the cars, explore around the room and tried to engage him. There were fleeting moments that she was able to grasp his attention but they were few and far between. I remember leaving that day trying to convince myself that he had done well and that it wasn’t what I thought.... it wasn’t what, deep down in my gut, I had already known.

She sat us down around a small table. She was against the wall and I was to her left and Eric was to my left. Looking back he seems like he was too far away – he was just out of my touch and I wish we had sat closer. Strange detail, I know, but had I let myself believe what was to come I would have known how close I needed him - right next to me. She began by telling us Lyric’s strengths and slowly crept into his delays and difficulties. I remember thinking that I wanted to shake her and tell her just get to the point..... just tell me....”IS MY SON AUSTISTIC?” I could hear myself screaming inside.... and then it came...... “I’m giving your son Lyric a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder or what we call ASD”..... and then nothing... silence. I can’t tell you what came next other than numbness. As I sit here and type this I can’t begin to explain the feeling... the feeling that I had just lost my son to some unknown black hole. Everything got cloudy and hazy after that. Somehow Eric found his voice and asked “what do we do next?” The doctors response was "go home and be with your boy. Go home and hug him. He is still the same little boy".

The numbness lasted days. The thought of ever hearing my baby boy say “I love you mama” haunting me. What would my son's life be like? Would he just continue to spiral into his own little world? I felt like I had to hold him, that if I kept him in my arms as much as possible he would stay with me, he would stay and be a part of “our” world. I let myself cry. I got it out and then I started the fight for my boy.  

I spent hours on the phone calling service providers and therapists, setting up evaluations and services to help my boy get the skills to find his voice, to help him communicate in a world that doesn’t speak his language. He started services at times 30+ hours a week. It was tough...on all of us but especially him.  

Then, he started to respond. His therapist asked him to touch his head. At 28 months old he followed a request – he touched his head! It slowly started to flow. We kept a log of his words (ball, mama, dadda, papa, tree, car, blue, bubba, truck). It kept growing. Something was clicking for our little guy.

Our sweet boy has made incredible progress in the past two years and I can honestly say that I didn’t know if we would be here. Our life is different, it’s not always easy - it’s scheduled and routine. It’s hard. It has strained some friendships and tested relationships but at the end of the day my boy is learning to navigate a world that doesn’t cater to his learning to style.  

My boy is here with me. He didn’t wander off into the black hole. He fought and stayed with us even when his own little world is so tempting to him and just easier and is waiting at every turn to lure him further and further in. He is learning but most of all he is teaching me, Eric, our other son Crosby, our families and our friends.  

I have learned more about the world and myself from him in the past two years than the prior 32 years that I have been alive. He has shown me a different way to look at life and my surroundings. He has shown me the wonder in such small moments...a wonder that I see when I look in his eyes...the wonder of a pure sweet soul.

Linda Saulnier

I've known Linda for the better part of my life.  

Always admiring her creativity, her loyalty and especially her talent for juggling it all (family, friends, career) ,
she was one of the first invitations sent to participate here on Storytellers: The Collective .

Linda's closest friends and family have witnessed, first hand, her ability to navigate marriage, 
motherhood and (the often unchartered waters) of her son's Autism with such strength and grace 
it is my hope that we will all be enlightened by what she shares here about her journey.
(Bio written by Tara Mazzeo Jackson)