Guest Post by DadBean
I am the father of two boys with special needs. When I say this, I feel I must clarify because I immediately receive a look of pity as co-workers imagine the ‘worst case’ scenarios we have come to associate with those two words. I follow that up with ‘they have ASD but are on the high end of the spectrum’. Those that don’t know what I mean simply nod and move on. Those that understand acknowledge and typically seek further information outside of whatever context we were meeting under. To be fair, this is not how I identify myself off the bat. It is an add-on to explain why, at some point, I may have to drop what I am doing to restrain a nine year-old who is trying to put a hole in his wall because his shoes were not in the exact spot, he believed them to be. Spoiler: He left them in the car after throwing a fit the day before.
Before we focus on the present, I think it best to rewind and start where every story should start – at the beginning. Don’t fret, I am not going to ramble on about my childhood. It was normal and very fulfilling. If there is any underlying trauma, it is still very deep. I will start this story with the lead up to and diagnoses of our eldest child, who is now 11. I had always wanted children growing up, so when we finally got the news, I was ecstatic. Max would be awesome and, when he grew up, we would do things. The actual things were a bit hazy, but like all parents, I want my children to do something amazing. Even before ASD, I knew I wasn’t going to shove them into something they didn’t want to do. My parents were, and still are, supportive of what I do, and I promised I was going to do the same with mine. I had seen the movies and TV shows that portrayed overzealous parents and where that goes. While I understood they were scripted events, I also knew there is a kernel of truth to be had in those stories. If you push too hard and force someone to do something they don’t want to do, it’s not going to end well.
I am thankful for my wife. She has her Master’s in Elementary Education, so once you add on the extra layer of being a new mother it was only a matter of time before she realized something was off. Me, having zero experience with children or what milestones should be when, acknowledged that ‘yeah, Max can’t talk, but every baby is different’. She continued to worry as more and more milestones were missed. This is where I must acknowledge something, I am a very laid-back person. Yes, there things I worry about, but they slide off easily. My wife on the other hand, is perpetually worried. Every noise, every sound, every smell is a natural disaster waiting to happen.
Eventually, it was decided to begin the evaluation process which involved a lot of paperwork and personality tests. Does Max do ‘X’ never, rarely, often, sometimes, or always. Some were easy to answer, some required further discussion and flip flopping between answers. Did he do that often or sometimes? What is the actual difference between the two? Would the doctors not give a diagnosis if sometimes was marked instead of often? It was too much, especially when you are trying to peel back the layers of personality for a five-year-old.
When we finally got the official diagnosis that Max is on the spectrum, my wife went into full research mode. Trying to figure out how to best handle the future that was to come and while, on an intellectual level, I knew it would mean stuff would be different, it didn’t phase me. He is still my kid. I take solace in the fact that it is indeed a spectrum and he, and later my other son, would fall on the farther end where simple ant hills would now equate to Mount Everest, but there is a whole other range that could make life so much harder on everyone.The big surprise came when Jackson came along. He hit and missed different milestones than his brother, but my wife didn’t seem to have the same worries that she did with Max. Yes, he was ‘normal’ but with the anger of the Hulk to back it up. It could come out of nowhere and for seemingly no reason. We had dealt with (and still do) angry outbursts with Max, but the Jackson’s outbursts were scary. This time it was me who would hone in on a behavior and be like isn’t this a thing? Maybe we should get him tested? We eventually did and shocker, he also fell on the spectrum.
The funny thing about taking those tests was how many of the questions I identified with. Now, I’m not claiming to have autism, but I also didn’t grow up during a period where it was widely diagnosed. I don’t like looking people in the eyes, and I constantly need something to fidget with or I get restless. I love having a plan for the day and woe to the person that throws that plan off, no matter how slight of deviation it is. I watch Jackson spin around sometimes and laugh because there is nothing more freeing than closing my eyes and spinning my head around. The water containers must be lined up a specific way otherwise the day is completely shot and I might as well go back to bed. Do I fall on the spectrum Maybe. According to most of the articles, websites and people who talk about the subject, they say it is partly genetic.
So, this is where I stand. I have two children, diagnosed with the same neurodivergent label and yet they are completely different in attitudes, desires and level of care required. On one hand, you have the worried mother who handles the day-to-day operations of the household. On the other, a laidback father that tries to maintain order whenever possible. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the puppy we introduced to the family at the end of 2022, months before we moved into a new house. Let the good times roll.
MamaBean Az 