Comparisons are Odious. And a Bitch.
Isaac was our gamble.
After having 2 boys with autism, we were willing to try again. We knew the odds were higher, but we didn't have a good idea of how high. Those numbers are still debated. Looking back, I'm still not sure what made us take the risk other than part of my grief with autism was that I wouldn't have any more children, and I couldn't let that go. I love being pregnant and I love having babies (well, after they're born. I'm not a fan of the being born part.) So Isaac was created.
Just like I'm not quite sure when we knew for sure that Nathan was autistic (although we were sure by the time he was 2), I can't quite say when we were sure that Isaac wasn't. He gained language at maybe a slightly slower than normal pace, but still acceptable on the developmental charts.
Raising him has been a joy and a job. Reading to him at night, having him pick out his own books, having a routine (10 kisses, 10 hugs after we turn out the lights), it was all like salve to my heart. Having him tantrum at WalMart for a toy was wonderful. Watching him play with kids at the park was heart-warming.
Each step was welcomed and celebrated.
And each step in development that he took reminded us that our others didn't do it right. And in some cases never did.
And when it was obvious that he had bypassed Nathan, his elder by nearly 5 years, in speech and social development. When it was obvious that skills that Nathan couldn't display, like reading, came easily to Isaac. I just didn't know how I felt. That's not true. I felt shattered and whole, rejoicing and devastated.
Isaac is not my compensation for having kids with autism. He's not my consolation prize. He is not there to make up for Sam and Nathan. He is just a little boy. A stubborn, head-strong, creative, argumentative, loving boy.
But you can't help to compare.
After having 2 boys with autism, we were willing to try again. We knew the odds were higher, but we didn't have a good idea of how high. Those numbers are still debated. Looking back, I'm still not sure what made us take the risk other than part of my grief with autism was that I wouldn't have any more children, and I couldn't let that go. I love being pregnant and I love having babies (well, after they're born. I'm not a fan of the being born part.) So Isaac was created.
Just like I'm not quite sure when we knew for sure that Nathan was autistic (although we were sure by the time he was 2), I can't quite say when we were sure that Isaac wasn't. He gained language at maybe a slightly slower than normal pace, but still acceptable on the developmental charts.
Raising him has been a joy and a job. Reading to him at night, having him pick out his own books, having a routine (10 kisses, 10 hugs after we turn out the lights), it was all like salve to my heart. Having him tantrum at WalMart for a toy was wonderful. Watching him play with kids at the park was heart-warming.
Each step was welcomed and celebrated.
And each step in development that he took reminded us that our others didn't do it right. And in some cases never did.
And when it was obvious that he had bypassed Nathan, his elder by nearly 5 years, in speech and social development. When it was obvious that skills that Nathan couldn't display, like reading, came easily to Isaac. I just didn't know how I felt. That's not true. I felt shattered and whole, rejoicing and devastated.
Isaac is not my compensation for having kids with autism. He's not my consolation prize. He is not there to make up for Sam and Nathan. He is just a little boy. A stubborn, head-strong, creative, argumentative, loving boy.
But you can't help to compare.
Interestingly, Isaac has now been diagnosed as on-spectrum. My little Aspie to complete our full spectrum set.
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