Last week, my son Sam, who is a person with autism, figured out the childproofing measures on our front door and eloped. He was missing for three and a half hours. My husband was cooking breakfast, and Sam was gone in the time it took to make toast. The effort put forth by the Police, Fire and Rescue, Alabama Law Enforcement Agency, the Sheriff’s Office, and even the FBI resulted in my son coming home, safe and whole, with only a bad sunburn and ant bites. The whirlwind of the day completely changed my brain chemistry forever.
As a parent, we can easily slip into the ins and outs of our days. With autism, it seems that complacency can easily lead to tragedy. Not for a lack of effort, constant care, and love for our kids on the spectrum, but because (at least we) underestimate the skill level and abilities our kids are gaining every day. You don’t realize until they have broken the latch on the fridge, or slipped out the door, that they have gained a new skill while you were busy with the day-to-day life and the effort to keep things going. All the therapies, homeschool, and exercises result in a false sense of security until I heard a helicopter looking for my son because the door locks that kept him safe on Tuesday, he figured out on Wednesday.
As a mother, I have ridden a tidal wave of emotions and intrusive thoughts of what-ifs this past week. Our whole family was in shock and then recovery mode this past weekend. We settled into a new routine of key rings in our pockets all day and night. We dove into the research of tracking devices and emergency planning. It was not for one moment lost on us that the fact that the K-9 cop who found our boy in the woodline of the next neighborhood was executing a miracle from God. So many parent’s do not get their babies back safe in their beds in these scenarios. My prayers, joined by a force of most everyone we know and love, looking and praying, were answered. When he hopped out of the back of the ambulance in his pull-up, covered in scrapes and bites, he ran to me and exclaimed, “I saw plants and trees !” He had an adventure that I hope one day he can tell me more about, and one I hope he never sets out to have solo again.
Today, on Autism Awareness Day, it seems right to document all of this, but I don’t have much in the way of answers. Each person experiences autism so differently that it is almost impossible to paint “need” with a broad brush. The list seems extensive, as so many are underestimated, overlooked, or seen as a burden on strained systems like schools and daycares. They need inclusion. They need you to tell your kids about the differences and to answer hard questions with honesty, not indifference. They need to be seen and assisted to meet their individual goals. They need quicker diagnosis, more available and nuanced therapies, and research into the individual differences that are lumped into a wide spectrum. Their parents need support, respite care, and to feel like a part of the community in churches, schools, and events, even if they need to experience them differently. If you have a means to help with any of these things, it could easily change a life for the better for those navigating autism.
Again, I am so thankful for the love of our friends, family, neighbors, and even strangers, who threw themselves into the search to bring our Sam back home. I will never be able to explain how much it meant. Although traumatic and jarring, last week’s events brought real, true love into view, and that was incredible. I know my life is forever changed, and my central nervous system and my heart are stamped with the events of that day. My hope going forward is to continue to explore paths to safety, inclusion, and community for everyone while they jump the high and low hurdles of autism.