...only a year and then he's gone... (Part 2, 6 through 10)

6)

A cross country move and fresh start under our belts, we were both ready for new adventures.

And his 6th year brought plenty of them!

Kindergarten came in like a wrecking ball and threw our whole balance out of whack, as he adjusted to social and sensory stimuli and I adjusted to his absences and his emotional returns.

Already we were in the thick of it...Team Wellerding all the way!

He'd sit like this, pensive and watchful, at the playground when it was full of children. But if it was empty… Oh, the fun we'd have!

No recap of J-bug's past 10 years would be complete without a photo including Henry. Confidant of precious secrets, therapeutic assistant, educational tool, best friend, solid listener, essential cuddler and all around necessary fellow...Henry the Raccoon came into J-bug's life shortly after we left Ohio and has been a constant since. 

A few things to note:

J-bug previously had another raccoon named Joey (the name everything he named for the first five years bore!) whom he carried back and forth to preschool.

Henry was a last minute purchase at the gift shop at Space Farms Zoo after a long hot day of animal-watching.  His nose was the only one that looked 'right' to J-bug among the dozen or more raccoons displayed. He was promptly abandoned in favor of a transformer once we got home.

A week or so later we went to Build-a-Bear for the first time...what fun! Another trip followed shortly thereafter...two new stuffed friends in all their clothed, accessorized glory!?!  Little did I guess what was about to happen...

Once home, J-bug spied the abandoned raccoon forgotten in a corner and immediately retrieved him.  He came up to me in the kitchen solemnly and declared that the raccoon must have tried to run away because he felt so bad about himself.  Not quite 'getting it' yet, I inquired half-interested as to why.  Boy was I in for a surprise! In the moments that followed my son explained how the raccoon felt different and unlovable because he was the only one with  no clothes and he didn't want to be made fun of.  Aha! Now I was tuned in.  We snuggled up on the couch, raccoon between us, for a chat about how that must feel and what that raccoon must wish for.  That evening we returned to Build-a-bear with one very special stuffed animal...a newly named Henry.  And we tried on every single stitch of clothing until Henry found a set he liked.  As we left the store, J-bug checked in with Henry to see if he felt better, must have heard assent and promptly tucked him up under his arm. 

Six years old and ready to face new challenges.  Don't be fooled by the horns...the tough exterior crumbled daily the moment he got home.  J-bug continued to excel academically, though school was a challenge for his senses and emotions.  In kindergarten we soon learned the downside of having pushed so hard for a mainstream placement as other students noticed some of his autism stims and began to tease him.  Before we were a full month in it had already grown into full-fledged bullying on the playground and bus, with the scars to boot.  J-bug weathered (and continues to) the storm each day with such strength and grace but melted down when home.  And the school officials quickly learned that my 110lbs pack a steel spine, razor wit and acid tongue.  By school year's end my son had a new outlook on life based around the premise that the only people whose opinion matter are those who take the time to learn your story and walk in your shoes. And proving once again how special he truly is, he resolved not to let the frequent cruelty of others dampen his natural sympathy, empathy and generosity.

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7)

I've always said that I want him to have the fullest life possible. Wide open and chock full of people, places and experiences.

By the time he turned 7 we were well on our way. Any day that dawned sunny involved at least one adventure...even if it was just a nature hike.

It should be noted, we still hold hands when we walk...but these days my arm is the one that raises to reach his, as his 6'3" has outpaced me!

Tempted by all that water, but still quite unsure whether or not he wanted to go in without me by his side. Outfitted with as many flotation devices as he could get his hands on.

For as often as I suffer from single mom guilt and chastise my inability to provide him with objects and experiences he might have had, had things gone much, much differently… For each and every one of those times, there are at least five photos like this one that prove otherwise.  Not even twelve yet and his life is already so full of experiences.  A friend commented at one point here on Facebook about how it seems we are always on the go. And she was absolutely correct. I'm constantly trying to encourage growth in him by taking in new sights, sounds, places, tastes, etc... And so he's growing up as something of a young man of the world. He's walked alongside people from every walk of life: a multitude of economic backgrounds, a vast array of differing abilities and disabilities, talents of every form, colors and races and places diverse...

And as he gets older he has taken all that within himself and changed and grown...ever more accepting and empathetic, ever kinder and helpful...

Does it get any better than this?!? I still remember being shocked to read the notice that came home from school one day...that J-bug had one of the leads in the musical! To think we went from intensive speech therapy to this?!? Amazing!

I truly believe the best part of motherhood is when your child catches you by surprise...

...and boy, did he ever!

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8)

Quick to help, swift to hug. By 8 years old, already the kind of person I admire. And all that despite being picked on almost daily.

What a wonder! What a marvel indeed!

And what a testament to that steel spine of his and the piping hot furnace of a heart.... Nothing yet, nor ever will I hope, cool down his sympathy and empathy.

See now, that's what I'm talking about!

That smile right there…and those twinkling blue eyes...despite having just spent the better part of the morning being poked and prodded and tested.

What a sweet reminder of the strength found in love...just look, Henry is dressed for battle to defend his beloved J-bug from harm during the blood draws!

Of special note...every time J-bug goes for a round of testing or procedures, Henry is by his side and most often, partakes. To this day Henry wears a bandage on his tail...a fresh one with each experience.

There is an absolute cacophony of white noise that fills your head when a doctor's phone call diagnoses your child with autism.  It's as though you're hearing the definitive words through a tunnel filled with the sounds of other parents' experiences that you, suddenly, won't have. Or so you think.  The part of your brain still present in the moment and clutching the phone listens to the litany...the list of things you are being told your child will likely never do.  But drowning it out are the voices of all your personal worst-case scenarios. All those things that you dreamt up while you were expecting suddenly vanish into the ether with the sound of explosives going off. 

(Tangentially-you do recover)

And it takes a moment in time to sit with this stark knowledge.  Or perhaps it's a moment out of time, with no real limit or passing.  At some point you move forward and embrace the new reality. And as time passes you let go of those naïve daydreams, and start focusing on attainable accomplishments. 

Then suddenly out of the blue, long after you forgotten you ever wished it so, one of those naïve daydreams sneaks up behind you and surprises you by coming true in its own way and time.

Pictured here is one of mine.

Because pictured here is the moment that I became a Soccer Mom.

And this one thing I can absolutely guarantee you…

No mother has ever been prouder to carry that title.

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9)

By nine years old, his smile had changed permanently.

Instead of that open, trusting grin he offered the world a shy sliver...hoping for a warm welcome but nervous. In our quiet moment alone, his smiles would reach all the way to his eyes. But they never made it out when others were around.

My heart broke...daily...

And still we persevered, finding "our happy" in each and every day. Working ever harder to create a soft place to land, and holding fast to each other and our hopes and dreams.

This first decade of J-bug's life is drawing to a close, quickly! By tomorrow he'll be someone else altogether....an 11year old!

Whether it's the single parenting or the autism parenting or any other of a myriad of reasons, our little family is based first and foremost in a conscientious focus on teamwork. Making each of us stronger individually by working together.

Never is that more clear than in the crisis-moments we've come through. 

It is a lucky mother indeed, who can say her child genuinely inspires her. His strength and fortitude are simply amazing. But it is his ability to maintain his sweet and cheerful disposition, even in the hardest of times, that serves as inspiration for me.

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10)

The big 1-0 was a year for the record books for sure! The social skills therapy group afforded him a veritable crowd of likeminded buddies to take a midweek brain break with on Wednesday evenings.

And surrounded by a group of boys who genuinely thought he was "the coolest", he started to branch out a bit.

At his birthday party, we bounced ourselves silly and dove into some serious laser gun competition.

It's a boy's life after all...he totally wiped the floor with me!

Those first few heart-stopping moments of early diagnosis have been so completely eradicated by these past 10 years.  It's as though when we hear the word "no", what it translates in both of our minds as is "go forth an wage battle". In the past few years I've often spoken about the warrior side of my son in terms of school problems and health problems.    It's his ability to withstand hurt and pain that caught me by surprise.  As though hidden inside the very depths of his being is this steel spine that encourages him to jump right back into the fray, even when he knows he'll likely get hurt again.  Does he suffer from disappointment and anger and depression? Absolutely. In that, he is oh-so-typical. But it's his willingness to, with encouragement and support, keep trying and trying that have gotten him so far.  The boy who was 'not supposed to' talk, interact, learn self-help skills, etc...   That boy.  He ceased to exist. 

This boy. This one. He plays soccer. He's learning the cello and virtuosically self-teaching music. He brings home A+ exams. He had the lead in the school play and joined the musical theatre club.  He just auditioned and was accepted into the performing orchestral ensemble at school (mind you, he just picked up the cello in October).  His teachers describe him as the most empathetic child they've met....the first to offer a hug or helping hand.

This boy. This one. Loves his Mami with an active heart.  He made me a lobster!

Cares for his pet, Katja Noel, with all the concern of a loving father.

Cares for his friends, encourages their joy and shares in their griefs.

And as you can see...creates beautiful art!

One final shot as this tenth year closes...and a personal favourite.  A beautiful picture of a beautiful boy.

But more than that.

A beautiful picture of a moment in childhood...normal, typical, in no way defined by any diagnosis or deficit...just...

J-bug. At 10. At the beach.

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~Leanna

...only a year and then he's gone... (Part 1, birth through 5)

In years past, in the week leading up to his birthday, I've shared via social media my version of a highlight reel of Mister Man's life thus far.  I don't remember when I started, but over the years it's become a tradition.   I get to "dig" through Shutterfly, reminiscing and reliving what life was like when he was 1 and 2 and 7 and 13...  I get to remind myself of each lost love...each version of him that he was and will never be again.  

I decided, before I get going on this year's batch, to compile some of the old ones here.

So let's get started...

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This. The very beginning.
I was young, married, and woefully ignorant of what was to come.
He was early, huge, and instantaneously the love of my life.

Underneath every day, I hear it...the ticking clock.

 Counting down the hours until the babe I carried goes off into an adventure of his own making - leaving me behind with a heart full of memories and moments. 

Little did I know at just that moment of wonder, how a heart can be broken and built all at the same time and how it happens over and over again in motherhood. 

What I did know at just that moment was that a new adventure had just begun...

One day in and I was equal parts delighted and petrified. My heart was forever outside of me now.  Every moment was miraculous and I remember just watching and watching...every breath, every expression... I couldn't get enough.

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0)

How funny it is to note the number up there!  But here it was, the very beginning.

Already a miracle, a marvel...and the absolute love of his mother's life.

He came early.  Eager to get started.

I was so young...so ill equipped...but thankfully, he's taken me along for the ride even so...

And taught me how to be his Mami.

I sang lullabies to lull him to sleep...then wished he were still awake.

Those hands fisting up clenched my heart something fierce.

One of the final pictures with my then-husband. These many years later I can finally say it's okay. It's okay to look at this picture. Because out of all that pain and misery and agony, not only did I survive, but I received the greatest gift of all. Were it not for that marriage I wouldn't have my son. Here, directly after his baptism. I remember his infuriated cries when the minister anointed him with water.

The truth is in the pictures, I should say. It's easy to see, as in this one, how absolutely and completely I fell in love with this little one.

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1)
That first year rushed by, despite every attempt to slow it down. From babe in arms, to child on hip. He grew at an alarming rate, or so his Mami thought! Giggles and grins, from morning to night.
And his sweet disposition kept me well distracted as "the rest" fell apart. Our world was changing...quickly, violently, and sadly.

But this trooper had a smile on his face that wiped away all my fears.

Early spring 2004: by then we were already a team of just two.  I clearly remember this day at the arboretum with then-friends from the Bexley mom's club...and how crushed I was when those same friends vanished as news of my separation spread.  But, that day...before Easter, that day was good.  We packed a picnic, cameras, and a few props (baby blanket, rocking horse) and headed out to get gorgeous photos with Mellody and baby Claire...both kids were far more interested in trying to break and eat the tulips than in smiling at our cameras!
Note the ensemble...looking back, J-bug lived in blue/green outfits those first years...probably because I get stuck in ruts and his nursery theme/baby clothes were from the Peter Rabbit line all rendered in blue/green/white....

Up and at'em, at one year.  Waiting, rather impatiently, for his most favourite person...

the mailman!

How very young I look here!

How very small he looks here!

In my heart, he is still just as small...just as sweet.

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2)
A whirlwind of change, and he sailed on through. The second year was a vast departure from the first, navigating single parenthood and all the ups and downs it brought.
Diagnoses had already been accumulating by the time his 2nd birthday rolled around.

Such a bittersweet memory.
He was, as always, just himself. No label. No scientific terminology. No limits.

Coordinated ensembles...a standard sight in those early day!

Here, a birthday pickup from his special needs preschool.

His grandmother fought cancer once again...and showed her grandson the price of survival.
I look at this picture and I see his eyes and the way his hand is clutching.  There was no way he was letting go of her before he was ready.

A moment of wonder...and what's to come...

Grandson watching Grandad shave.

Always ready~willing~eager to make new friends.

Particularly if they don't talk back!

These many years later, I can tell you, my life still looks just like this!

I'm still his most favourite jungle gym!

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3)
Pictured here with his grandmother.
Just look at the serious active listening.
Bookworms are sooo last year...It's book-bugs now!
At 3, already a seasoned student at his special needs preschool.
Still nonverbal, but the best listener! And we had by then developed our own mode of communication.
Funny to think how often we slide back into it now! Thank goodness for expressive faces!

Right around his 3rd birthday. J-bug had a whopping collection of 'bug' shirts by this point, and I'm fairly certain at least a few people thought his nickname was his real name!  By this time he had been diagnosed, therapied and attending a special-needs preschool for over a year.  Still non-verbal, but we had our own communication language.  I remember being so busy that whole year...trying to fit in work and school and therapy, etc...while still making every day full of regular childhood moments.  By this point in time I had already inundated myself with the stress of trying to be everything at once… Trying to provide this fabulous child with all the experiences and joys that, in my own convoluted way, I thought he would have had were he raised in a two-parent home.

These years since have tamped down some of his eagerness, but I remember the young years when he knew no limits. My whirling dervish. A total daredevil. Here, roller skating for the first time and letting go right away!

If ever there was a photo that captured my life as his mother, it's this! 
Always in his sights.
Always thrown off balance.
Always smiling wider than I thought I could!

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4)
As the years go by, little moments fade away into the ether. And I mourn them, knowing I'll never have them again. But this photo...this photo was the key to remembering how every single time we went for a walk he had to bring home a new stick to add to the pile we had on our patio.
Every walk.
A new stick.
Can you just imagine how big that pile became?!?

Just this weekend, we went for a hike.
No surprise, he found a stick to walk along with!

Four years old and chock-full of personality. One of the many, many blessings in getting to be this boy's mother is that he has always been such a joy for me.  While he struggled to express himself and communicate with others, our bond has always been based in love and laughter.  Since day one I have always said that we have to seek out our happy each and every day… And it has been a wonderful journey so far seeking out something joyous in each and every day with him.  There have been struggles… Oh boy, have there been struggles… But I'm so relieved that I'm able to say even in our darkest times, we found something to be happy about every single day of his life.

Those first years were hard.

I often look back and wonder how I made it through, intact.

But then I've only to look at pictures like this one, and there's the answer.

I was never silly before.
I was never comfortable before.
But this one came steamrolling into my life and flipped everything upside down. I'll do anything to make him smile!

Can you feel that gentle tug on the heartstrings?

Time and again I've called him the boy of a hundred smiles.

There's the shy, polite smile. The hopeful smile. The apologetic smile. The forgiving smile. The smile he gives to friends. And the one he shares with family. There's a special smile just for Henry.
And then there's mine.
I watch the others come and go throughout the days. And take quiet delight in knowing there's one that only I ever get to see...

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5)
This.
Is the boy I know.
He's hidden away inside for the most part now, cloaked in the shyness and reserve that comes from years of being shamed.
But once upon a time, he was 5. And he was free. He was friendly and outgoing and bold. And he made a friend, poking his head round the aisle at the natural food store just up the street. He made a friend for life, playing peek-a-boo. He tugged on my hand to let me know he wanted to share his once-a-week treat (a dark chocolate bar) with this stranger. And within a matter of minutes, chocolate had made lifelong friends of us all.

An apt photo even now: in his own little world.

By the time Spring '08 rolled around we were ready for a new chapter and doing our very best to end the previous one on a high note! This photo, taken at one of our favourite spots (Jeffrey Mansion-a few blocks from where we lived) was from one of our goodbye-days as we gathered with friends near and dear as often as possible before we moved away.  On this particular day I remember we joined up with some of J-bug's friends from his preschool...and whiled away the afternoon playing.  Those friendships were amazing to watch develop.  And so very hard to let go of…

And so the next chapter again. Those first few months on the east coast were a flurry of activity...we dove right in as best we could.  I think J-bug's shirt here really says it all..."it seemed like a good idea at the time".  Little did we know in those early moments that we had essentially jumped out of the frying pan and directly into the fire.  If I were to sum up that first year for my son I think I would have to say he was all shook up. New faces, new places, new routines… He was getting it on all sides with no let-up.  I remember thinking in moments that keeping him busy all the time with all these experiences was a great way to stave off the inevitable meltdown.

I remember when his grandparents insisted on sports-play, sure that his spatial relations would improve if only I would teach him baseball...basketball...etc...
Swing and a miss, folks! That ball never moved.

Halfway through this first decade...solidly 5 and solidly himself.  Can you see the giggle in his eyes?!?  My own little whirling dervish, J-bug really came into his own the year I homeschooled.  We spent the year before he entered kindergarten learning all the kindergarten through first grade academics, solely so that he wouldn't fall behind if overwhelmed by the sensory/social dynamics of a public school setting.  Prior to pregnancy, I had always imagined that if and when I had children I would likely homeschool them for a good portion of their younger school years, so at least this was a step on a path that felt familiar.  Little did I know then that the boy who had not spoken was an absolute teeming mass of curiosity and latent knowledge.  What an absolute roller coaster homeschooling was that year… So much work to do in so little time… But our little team really pulled together.  To this day I supplement his public-school education with homeschooling… About 15 hours weekly during the school year and 30 during breaks.  And the boy whose first diagnostician had nothing but no's and negatives to offer has never once gotten less than straight A's on his report cards and broken the curve on statewide testing.

A weekend trip to the bay garnered us this delight… Feeding the ducks and geese from sunrise to sundown. I remember him commanding them to follow him from one side of the dock to another. And looking at those hands of his, how he would scold them for being piggies!

Among what I'd like to believe are the many things my son has inherited from me, he definitely got my face.  Now I'm not talking about his features, though clearly some of those don't fall far from my genetic tree… I mean his expressions.  Whether inherited  or learned, his face is like mine...a blank canvas across which expressions-moods-reactions dance with wild abandon.  It is rare, to this day, that I am able to keep a pleasantly blank expression on my face.  And so it is with him. He has these fabulous, thick eyebrows that crawl all over depending on what he's saying. I always refer to them as caterpillars.  And I always know that if the caterpillars aren't crawling when he talks, he's not feeling well.

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~Leanna