Learning to Accept My Autistic Son
Originally published on Mother of Confusion
My son was born after midnight during the cooler days of May, before the Central Valley could blaze triple-digit temperatures.
The delivery room was packed full of people. The doctor, several
nurses, my husband, my parents and my mother-in-law were in attendance.
As my son emerged into the world, I expected him to gasp and then cry
about the abrupt ejection.
He did not.
Instead he was quiet and blue. The umbilical cord was wrapped around
his slender neck several times. Of course I didn’t know that yet, but
the jubilant faces of the others gave way to peaked, pinched
expressions.
When I asked what was wrong. The response was, “Nothing. Everything’s okay. It’s okay.”
The reassurances scared me. I was only 20-years-old, but already I knew people lied when things were really, really wrong.
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