On a bright Southern California day, my husband took our two older boys to the lagoon for some water fun with friends. I stayed back with my youngest, Max, and our little one, Oliver, due to Max’s therapy schedule. Our usual Sunday routine began with church, followed by some playtime at home. Max’s therapist arrived promptly, so off we went to service. About 15 minutes in, I received a text from the nursery: “Please come pick up Max.” This wasn’t surprising; he struggles with nursery settings, but I remained optimistic about the rest of our day.
After church, we returned home, and Max spent some time outside, learning to explore our yard. Typically, he wanders aimlessly, so the therapist and I encouraged him to use the slide and swing for just a minute. It seems trivial, but it was a significant achievement for him.
The morning was lovely despite the nursery hiccup with Max. He had a two-hour break before his next therapy session, which we planned to follow with a family meal, usually at a fast-food place during quieter times to minimize any potential meltdowns. Max’s therapist arrived in vibrant, patterned pants, excited to explore a new store. I hesitated, sensing Max’s discomfort with the unfamiliar, but she reassured me it would be fine.
To my surprise, everything started off splendidly. Max was doing well, and I felt a sense of relief; however, out of nowhere, a meltdown erupted. I still replay that moment in my mind. Max was on the floor, inconsolable, screaming and hitting his head against the cold tile. The therapist quickly moved in to protect him, and I felt a rush of panic. I wanted to help, but I knew he needed space, and touching him would only escalate the situation.
As I watched, heartbroken, strangers walked by, casting judgmental glances. Their whispers echoed in my mind, amplifying my insecurities. I wanted to explain to them that Max wasn’t being naughty; he was overwhelmed. In public, his behavior might appear unruly—flailing in the cart, kicking, or even attempting to hit others. But this isn’t mischief; it’s a challenge he navigates daily due to his autism.
When we first began applied behavior analysis (ABA) therapy, Max couldn’t stay seated in a shopping cart for more than a few minutes. Our outings were limited to familiar places like Target, where I stuck to the same routine. I’ve faced countless comments, stares, and laughter about his outbursts. The most hurtful were from fellow parents who know about his condition, yet still discuss his meltdowns as if they’re amusing.
What they fail to understand is that Max’s perception of the world is different. He processes stimuli in ways we can’t fathom, making it hard for him to communicate his feelings. I strive to meet his needs and prevent meltdowns. He craves routine and predictability, and unfamiliar environments can be overwhelming. At times, he lies on the ground, absorbing his surroundings. His sensory needs are significant, often requiring movement to feel grounded.
Max isn’t naughty; he’s simply wrestling with the challenges of a world that feels unpredictable. Please don’t judge either of us. We’re doing the best we can, striving to navigate this journey together.
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In summary, parenting a child with autism can be challenging, and understanding is crucial. Judgments can be hurtful, and compassion is needed as we navigate these complexities together.
Keyphrase: Understanding Autism in Parenting
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