With Open Arms

I love taking Nico to the trampoline park. He finds so much joy in jumping. He always has. He got his first trampoline when he was 2 years old, shortly after his diagnosis, and he used that tramp every single day until he outgrew it. I learned early on in his autism diagnosis that he had sensory processing issues and was considered hyposensitive. He often sought out lots of sensory stimulation and jumping was one of the ways he satisfied this need.

Jumping has always been instrumental in regulating his “stimming” which is what happens when he is not receiving enough sensory stimulation. When he would be flapping his hands obsessively or getting loud with his echolalia, I would ask if he wanted to go jump. His grandpa even bought him the “Cadillac of Trampolines” because he knew how therapeutic it was for Nico. He has really never once turned down an invitation to jump on a trampoline.

So, this past week I took him, his brother, and his cousins to a trampoline park and let them run free for a couple of hours. Nico immediately went to the large free jump area and the others took off in search of something more involved. Nico didn’t stop to look for them or feel sad that they went their own way. He knew exactly what would bring him the most joy and that was jumping freely amongst tons of connected trampolines!

I naturally followed Nico and sat marveling at how much fun he was having. His smile was beaming ear to ear and he was actively making his favorite noises in complete harmony. He was blissfully unaware of anyone or anything else around him.

That is until an older boy began jumping near him. This kid appeared to be a teenager and was living it up in the free jump area just like Nico. I didn’t pay much attention to him at first; what caught my attention was his father. I knew he was the boy’s father because they looked strikingly similar and this man rarely took his eyes off this kid. He seemed very pensive and anxious though. Every time his son would start to get loud or get a little too boisterous, his father would look around checking for any lingering stares or confused looks on others’ faces. He would then gingerly approach his son and ask him to lower his voice.

Meanwhile, Nico was doing basically the same thing—-jumping from tramp to tramp and making all his inaudible noises at much higher levels than an “inside voice”—and I couldn’t get enough of his sheer contentment. It wasn’t until the older boy made some noises exactly like Nico does—flapping his hands just like Nico—that BOTH Nico and I turned and looked at the young man with almost identical expressions of shock and awe. Not because it was annoying or over the top, but because it was all too familiar. Nico seemed to get excited every time the kid would make his noises and flap his hands, and it seemed to compel Nico to nonchalantly jump closer to him while mimicking the same behaviors.

It was as if Nico found his match. Someone who understood his “language” and how he displayed happiness and excitement. The boy, too, started recognizing what Nico was doing and began to gravitate closer to him. They never spoke or officially acknowledged each other, but I swore I saw them smiling in unison when they would jump past each other. It was the most endearing interaction I have ever seen my son have with a stranger.

And that’s when it hit me…

This young man might very well be on the spectrum too. I continued to discreetly observe both the boy and his father. The dad seemed so anxious and uncomfortable, shifting from sitting to standing constantly while keeping an eagle’s eye on his son. And only after I saw the dad slowly approach the area where his son was vivaciously jumping at full speed from tramp to tramp and signal to him that he had 10 minutes left did I feel 99% certain that this handsome, joyful boy was just like my Nico. Nico always needs countdowns to help him prepare for a transition and that was what I was taking from this father’s hand signals.

More and more kids started to pile in to the free jump area where Nico and this young man were jumping and I could see the dad getting more and more skittish. He would instantly look around each time his son would get loud or jump too close to someone, which ultimately led to the fellow jumper quickly distancing himself from the boy. It broke my heart every time that happened. The stares this boy was getting from other kids AND adults was beyond unacceptable.

Nico was experiencing the same thing because of the inaudible noises he was making, but I couldn’t help but be more worried about the father and his son. I felt he father’s anxiety and discomfort. His fierce overprotectiveness for his son and his desire to just whisk him out of the park once and for all. I know those feelings all too well. I used to feel them so deeply and for years it caused me to not want to share my Nico with the world.

So…I decided to take a chance and approach the father. I started off by telling him how much I was admiring his son’s elation as he jumped around, and how he reminded me of my son. I then mentioned how similar their noises and verbalization were, which caused him to turn his eyes a bit more towards me at this point. He hadn’t given me his full attention until I addressed his son’s vocalization.

It was then that I decided to ask him if his son was on the spectrum.

Now, I know what you might be thinking…. “How could you do that?” “Weren’t you nervous about how he would respond?” “Isn’t that inappropriate?”

Maybe…if you feel like autism is a taboo subject and something that can’t be addressed freely. But, I don’t see autism that way and maybe if more people looked at autism the way I do we’d have much more awareness and acceptance. A girl can hope.

I just felt such a gravitational pull towards this man because of the concern and anxiety and fear he seemed to be projecting. I just wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. I wanted to welcome him in with open arms to this incredible community of autism parents who KNOW exactly what he is feeling and thinking. It’s the empath in me, I swear.

He looked at me, sparked a quick smile, and then as his smile waned he asked me:

“Why would you ask me that?”

And this was when I knew I had the invaluable opportunity to advocate for our autism community and hopefully help him see that he was not alone. That autism was not something to be offended by. I didn’t allow myself to feel embarrassed. I just stayed the course of positivity and empathy.

I responded by sharing that Nico was on the spectrum and until today I had never seen another child behave so similarly to my son. I shared how enraptured I was with his son’s pure happiness and I couldn’t help but see Nico in his son. I told him that I loved how carefree our sons were amongst all the hustle and bustle of this very active trampoline park, and how they truly seemed to be connecting with each other as they jumped.

He asked me who my son was and when I pointed to Nico, he smiled. It was like he knew already. He then turned to me and said something so powerful…for many reasons:

“We think he might be.”

In my head, I was immediately thinking, “We have no time to waste! Let’s get him evaluated and signed up for ABA. It’s going to be a long process so we must act now! Oh, and here is my blog for support and guidance!” I couldn’t help but think about how old he might be—13 maybe 14 years old—and how I didn’t want him going without crucial supports any longer…him and his parents.

I told him that the first step for me was awareness and that my time as an educator helped me tremendously with recognizing the signs. I shared that I have learned so much from my son and about the power of autism. I ended the conversation by gushing over how handsome his son was and that he looked just like him. The man smiled a big, wide-eyed smile at me and said thank you.

I walked away, calling Nico to me and as I brought my kiddo close and hugged him tightly, l glanced back at the father, who had called his son to him, and saw him give his son a warm embrace as well. It truly made me tear up.

Do I hope that this chance encounter will hopefully be the catalyst for his family to begin their own autism journey with their son?

Absolutely!

Do I hope that, if nothing else, this man learned to not be afraid of autism and instead take comfort in knowing he is not alone?

100%

I just felt compelled to help ease this man’s apparent concerns about the possibility that his son could be different; that he could have autism. I wanted him to see Nico and how happy and carefree he was. I wanted him to meet a fellow autism parent and know we are all around and we understand more than he’ll ever know. That we feel good bringing our children out into a world they so deserve to be a part of. We aren’t hiding away because we have allowed autism to define everything about our child and us. I wish our parent community had like a “Bat signal” or something that we could flash when we recognized a fellow comrade! How cool would that be?

Sometimes you just need to know you’re a part of something bigger than what is happening in your own little world. You want to be welcomed in with open arms and be seen….truly seen. I’ve said it before and I will say it again…being an autism parent is the most empowering role you can have. It’s rewarding and life-affirming while also being exhausting and frightening all at the same time. You want to shelter your child from the harsh realities of life. Protect them from a world that expects them to conform to an antiquated, one-dimensional mindset with no reciprocation or willingness to adapt. Yet, at the same time, you want to showcase your child and all their incredible gifts that are not bestowed upon just anyone. Gifts that can change the world for the better.

And, you exhaust yourself trying to figure out how to live forever because you know nobody will protect your child, advocate for your child, and love your child more than you.

Nico is the greatest gift and most beautiful masterpiece I could have ever wanted. His autism has helped shape his life in such meaningful ways while also bringing about many challenges. Fortunately though, it has ushered in so much awareness and understanding from those who know and love him the most.

I will always think of that young man and be thankful to him for giving me hope that there are more kids just like him in this world. I want Nico to feel apart of something bigger than himself. I want him to see that he, too, is not alone. That there are other kids just as AUMAZING as him ready to jump right alongside him, flapping their hands, and using anything but an inside voice!

Now that is a world I will gladly welcome with open arms.