The Inevitable Question

Hello, hello, my Lovelies!  I remember in the days before the Princess was born, I tried to plan to the best of my ability. I would imagine various scenarios, how I'd play them out to their solutions and think to myself, "I hope I do it right."

Then, after she was born, in all of her newborn freshness, I'd wonder if I was doing it right. Silently, I'd hover any time I heard a sound. I would over analyze every cry. Every diaper change, every bath, every mealtime; I'd have a new question. Ultimately, I would simply say to myself, "I hope I'm getting it right."

As the Princess got older, however, my world and thoughts began to shift. I started to notice as her peers were quickly surpassing her in many milestones. One by one, they began to roll, crawl, stand and eventually walk. All the while, the Princess is still content to lay there. Now at first, this was very easy to ease my own nerves with the usual "Every child develops differently," and "She still has time to catch up."

Slowly even that was hard to swallow, as I noticed the gross motor skills weren't the only ones that she was lacking. I watched as other children held their bottle, explored items with their mouths, babbled, started eating solids and eventually moved on to table foods. The Princess wasn't having any of that. As far as holding her own bottle went, she seemed to have the attitude of "Why should I if you're going to hold it for me?" Eating foods was a new battle all together, and I realized quickly she was picky. Always preferring fruits to veggies, though a few sweeter veggies were OK. With each struggle, with each milestone that I'd watch others pass-- And she seemed content where she was-- I'd ask myself a new question: "What am I doing wrong?"

I couldn't fathom that my child was the one and only child on the planet who didn't like chocolate milk. Or why she simply wouldn't even try a new variety of food. Even before then, "What am I doing wrong?" plagued my existence. With the questions from friends and family members pouring in each time we saw them-- And the subsequent advice that almost always followed-- my world was crashing down, and all I could think was, "What am I doing wrong?"

I listened to all the advice. I kept trying new things. I put a brave face on every time I went out. Eventually, I really didn't want to go out much. The questions I'd get from those around me-- While varied in wording,-- rarely ever changed. "Is she holding her bottle yet?"-- That was a "No," until close to a year.-- "Is she sitting up yet?"-- "No," until about her first birthday.-- "Is she crawling?"-- "Nope," Until shortly after her first birthday.

That's where she stalled. For a long time. All the while, that same hauntingly annoying question followed me wherever I went. In the meantime, she became a very adept crawler. She got just about anywhere she wanted to be that way. She was quick too. But pulling herself up to a stand just didn't seem to appeal to her. In fact, she wouldn't pull herself to stand until shortly before her second birthday. Walking was later still, at about two and a half. With each passing day of working with her, wondering what could I possibly be doing wrong?

Trying to get her to eat table foods, well, I still can't. Some days, I wonder if she'll be packing little jars of baby food in her backpack each day well into middle school. I know that's not going to happen, but even I admit I worry.

I now know the "why" we've had all of this difficulty. I know it's not my fault, or something that I did or didn't do. I know it's not her either, or any type of choice that she may have made. It doesn't change the fact that the question still haunts me. That each time I hear "Is she eating table food yet?" makes me feel just a little smaller and smaller each time. I know it's not me. It's just a member of the family that hitched a ride with the Princess. One that came unannounced and shows no signs of packing up and going. His name is Autism, and he likes to make things more difficult for all of us.

Don't worry, we'll work around the little fiend. We'll find a way to show him that he is not who the Princess is, just a part of her. And some day, we will be able to answer the question of "Does she eat table foods?" with a victorious, resounding "Yes!" That will be all the proof I need that we can overcome and work through Autism. It's a fight that I'm willing to fight with my beautiful Princess.