So Close, Yet So Far Away

Last Thursday, April 24th, we celebrated Pierce's 16th birthday. It's difficult for me to wrap my brain around the fact that I've spent 16 years of my life as a mom. In some ways, Pierce is very much like a typical 16-year-old boy: Sleeps like a teenager, eats like a teenager, has the deep voice, facial hair, and acne of a teenager, certainly smells like a teenage boy. To look at him, anyone that doesn't know him would think just that; typical, normal. However, I had to write out questions for him to answer about the kind of birthday celebration he wanted. Typing out a response is sometimes easier for Pierce than trying to verbalize. While he asked for a chocolate cake and dinner at Applebee's, the activity he requested was anything but typical for a 16-year-old boy. He wanted to go to the LifeWay Christian Store and look at the VeggieTales display. He picked out a couple of videos that we don't own yet. VeggieTales was the first thing he every watched on television as a baby, and he's been obsessed with them ever since. When Pierce started high school last fall, I was terrified for him. I knew that boys he'd gone to middle school with and that were in the youth group with him would be there, too, but this place seemed huge! We walked the halls over and over at orientation to help him get familiar with his schedule. We tried to open his locker, and couldn't. I tried my hardest not to dissolve into tears in front of all these teenagers. Luckily, a friend from the youth group was there to help; I think I may have scared him, though, with my blubbering, once he offered to help Pierce around on his first day. I barely slept a wink that night, worried about how he would survive, having flashbacks to my own miserable days of high school. I walked him to his first class, well aware of the stares we were getting from teens that thought I was being a crazy, overprotective mom. Once we made it to the first class, I was greeted by teachers and assistants that assured me Pierce would be well taken care of. I barely got out to the car before turning into a giant puddle, tears of relief consuming me.

When Tim and I were on our cruise last December, we had to engage in lots of small talk with people we didn't know. Of course, we were always asked if we had kids, and then they'd want to know how old they were. I don't usually volunteer the fact that Pierce is autistic, but it normally comes up, especially now. When we tell people we have a 15 (now 16)-year-old son, 99% of the time, the response is, "Oh! You're about to have a driver in the house!" We then have to explain why we are not, in fact, on the cusp of having a teen behind the wheel. Most days, I'm fine. I've made my peace with life being different for Pierce than I had planned for it to be when he was a baby 16 years ago. But it's when his peers approach those milestones that Pierce is going to miss that I have a bit of a set-back. A couple of weeks ago, we were dropping Pierce off at a youth group function. One of the other 9th grade boys was just pulling up...and getting out on the driver's side to let his mom take over. I have to admit (after I got over the shock of seeing this KID DRIVING!!!, and then reminding myself that he is, in fact, old enough to do so), I felt a twinge of jealousy. Pierce's peers are great. They consider themselves Pierce's friends. For as long as they are all in high school together, I know they are going to make him feel like he's one of them. But these boys are all going to get their licenses soon. There will be parties and sporting events to attend, after-school jobs to go to. Before long, they will all be sending in college applications. I know they won't do so on purpose, but eventually, they are going to leave Pierce behind. Pierce is in a program at his high school that focuses on life skills. He works in a cookie store at the school every day: baking the cookies, washing dishes. Eventually, he'll be taught to work with the money and interact with the customers. I'm so very thankful that a program like this exists; that he won't just get turned out into society once high school is over, with a "Good Luck!" and a pat on the back. He LOVES working in the store. But it does make me sad that he won't go to college and follow the path that his friends will take. The house that we purchased 19 months ago, has a full basement. There is a bedroom and bathroom down there. This is where we decided Pierce should be. I don't know if he will ever live be able to live by himself as an adult, so we are prepared to make the downstairs his apartment. Ideally, I'd love for him to live in a sort of group home so that he can gain some independence from us. 

I've come a long way since that day 11 years ago, when we first heard a doctor tell us our son has autism. I've learned that one never fully leaves the stages of grief. I will revisit them as time goes by. There will be more days like today that will give me pause, and make me wonder what life could be like for Pierce, for our family, without the diagnosis. But, there will also be great days. Like last Friday, when Pierce competed in his very first Special Olympics. He trained every day at school, and signed up to run a 400M. He crossed the finish line with an exuberant, "I WON!!" (He actually took 2nd place). The look of pure joy on his face when he was called to the podium to accept his ribbon is one I'll never forget. While he may not achieve the same milestones that his friends are, he IS reaching goals of his own everyday. Goals I didn't envision years ago when autism was new to us and I was just trying to make it through the day without a colossal meltdown (from him OR from me). So when I have these pity parties, I have to remember what Pierce has managed to accomplish in his 16 years, and try to focus on the successes that are possible for him in the future.