Life

For a long time I was having an internal struggle whether or not to share about my journey with my son who was officially diagnosed with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) last year. There were a lot of things I was scared of but topping that list was definitely judgement because I honestly felt I had had enough of it dealing with plenty comments at gatherings or public places that usually started with, “Your son does not talk because you…” or “Leave him to walk on his own otherwise…” I got tired trying to explain the challenges he was (read: we were) having and ended up just avoiding accepting invites, and paying visits as much as I possibly could. Now, fast forward to December 2023 when I was planning to start this blog, I really was having this strong inkling to share about my journey caring for a child on the spectrum because I felt besides the need to raise awareness around this neuro-developmental condition, there was need to also reach out to that person who is probably dealing with this alone, in silence. I used to be that person. And I know how lonely it can get in that world. That’s why I decided to start sharing about it first here. So, I’m mum to my very energetic toddler son who turns 4 this year. If you had asked me 4 years ago how I would have envisioned my motherhood journey, the story would definitely not look like the reality I am living now. First of all, let me say this: Motherhood is a very humbling experience. Well, at least that is the summary of my own story. Nothing seems to go according to plan. From the pregnancy which literally rules your life for months, to teaching them how to poop in the potty and everything in between all of that. Nowhere in my journey through pregnancy and child birth did it ever occur to me that there was a possibility that I would have to deal with developmental challenges with my son. I don’t know whether it’s naivety on my part or I just had too many other things to think about like, Huggies or Pampers? Boob or bottle? Push it or C-Section? Why is my nose getting so big? You see? My mind was always racing. I remember being so excited when my son started to crawl and then walk, and would respond when I told him to clap his hands or say “Thank you”. “Progress!” I thought. But some of it just went away. One day, he woke up and he was no longer responding to those prompts or clap his hands or showing gratitude. It was like a part of his brain that stored those little bit of skills had been wiped clean. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. He was just 18 months and was walking and making baby noises so he was fine. Just before he turned 2 we enrolled him into day care. That’s when I started noticing some things. He struggled to integrate into the classroom environment and cried EVERY DAY. I remember being ridden with guilt thinking, “Maybe it’s too early for day care” but then I would look around at his classmates, some even younger than him, and they would be “calm” and seeming to do well. I know people say don’t do this but many parents are guilty of “comparison-i-tis” when it comes to their children. I also noticed how it was hard for him to concentrate on class activities. He would just want to do his own things and not follow even basic instructions like, “Sit down”. Deep down inside, something didn’t feel right so I asked the teacher what she thought and, unfortunately she dismissed my suspicions and said that if there was anything wrong they would know and take necessary next steps. Anyway, fast forward to the end of that year, I wasn’t keen on us continuing there for this and other reasons. We had also then received a referral from a paeditrician that he needed to see a neuro-developmental specialist for an assessment and evaluation. So we changed schools and moved to another which my son seemed to love IMMEDIATELY. He spent a year at this school but, again, we noted there was hardly any improvement in some developmental milestones which we considered basic. In the middle of that year, we had finally decided to go for that assessment and had officially received a diagnosis that he was on the Autism Spectrum. So in the middle of trying to accept our reality, seeking support and making decisions around what was best for our son, we found ourselves wanting to pick another school for the following year. This time, our need was clear, we sought to enrol him into a special needs school that specialised in helping toddlers with autism and other developmental disorders to thrive because that is our greatest desire and prayer for our son every day. I’m happy to say, for now, we seem to have found a place that ticks a lot of the boxes for us and as much as I would love to say our son is thriving, I’m going to be real with you at this point for the sake of managing expectations of those who may be on the same path. You have to know how far we have come with him to understand why we celebrate the tiniest of milestones like saying, “Mummy” or “Bye” or even just agreeing to shake another’s hand in greeting. We have come such a long way. But I am immensely grateful for those who have dedicated their lives to learning about this condition and mastering how to support those affected by it. The greatest gift I have received whilst on this journey is the gift of community. Understanding that I am not the only one experiencing the unique challenges I face as I try to raise my

A few weeks ago I fell soon after walking out of a pharmacy where I was getting some medicine for myself. I bruised my knee, was bleeding and had to go back into the pharmacy to get some bandages. It was so painful. I limped back to my car thinking, what’s next? Because I had scratched my skin off my foot just a few days before and was struggling to wear shoes. Why was I scratching, you might wonder? I have been battling eczema from birth and when it gets hot, I get so itchy. And Harare had been hot for a minute. The next 2 weeks, wearing shoes was a mission. Thank God I work from home and don’t have to be wearing them ALL THE TIME. Playing with my son also became dreadful because he would just (unintentionally) poke at my knee. He also seemed to not understand why I had bruises. The confusion on his face seemed to rise when I put a bandage on. Poor boy, couldn’t even ask mummy. He just would sometimes softly try to touch those nasty wounds. Besides wearing shoes, kneeling was difficult, something I do a lot when I am trying to pick up his toys. “When will this end?” I thought to myself. But slowly, the wounds started to heal. And when I realised that the pain was getting less and less, I remember thinking to myself, Finally. Because it honestly, felt like it was going to last forever. I also started having thoughts about difficult seasons that we go through in life that seem to have no end. The shock we get at the onset of the difficult events, the bleeding (physically, emotionally or spiritually), and the many attempts we make to heal. Right there, in the beginning, it really feels like there is no end in sight. But healing comes, we start to cope and, eventually, pain ends. Seasons are not permanent. I’ve just told you earlier how I scratched my skin off because the heat was really affecting me. But as I type this, it’s a cool 19 degree morning and you can tell that “Winter is coming”. The hot season is coming to an end. I know that before we even blink, everyone here will be complaining about the cold and, even that will end too. I am writing this post for that person who is going through a difficult time, a pain or discomfort that seems endless. It will end. The sun will shine oh so beautifully again. The heat you are feeling will be cooled off. You will not feel like this forever. It’s been about a month since my mighty fall outside the pharmacy, my wounds are completely healed but the scars are there and very visible. When I look at the scars I think about that fall, I remember the pain but I also am so grateful that the pain did not last forever. Touching those scars doesn’t hurt me at all now. I can play with my son without worrying about him poking at me and inflicting pain. He still looks at the scars in wonder but, if he was to ask me about it, I would only have a story to tell about a difficulty I went through and a pain I once felt. As much as there are scars left, the pain is gone and am not even triggered by any pokes at them now. Think about about the physical and emotional wounds you carry. Have they healed? Are you giving them time to heal? I know you want it to happen right away so you might want to take off scabs prematurely off your wound. I remember how badly I wanted my knee to heal. I did take out a scab and, my goodness, started bleeding again. Pain can feel like such an inconvenience. It is also very uncomfortable. But give yourself time. You have been hurt. You will come out on the other side – healed. Another thing is healing doesn’t leave us the same. There are scars which may manifest as changes in our character, personality, preferences or life choices. Whatever it is, I hope you emerge stronger, despite the pain.