It Takes a village to raise a child. The village for the child with Autism includes Moms,Dads, Grandparents, Therapists, teachers…. Sharing here a note I wrote quite a while ago, inspired by a grandmother that I worked very closely with.

She had always known there was something amiss.this grandchild was unlike others..Constantly moving,never still ,not talking even at two. The tantrums led to a nagging worry that refused to go.It persisted even when half the doctors in town told her daughter that the child was fine.That the doubts were in the grandmother’s imagination. It worried her that this child did not look back when she called his name, this child rarely played peek a boo or all those games of HER childhood that she longed to play with him. Not for him the laughter of a hand coming to get him,not for him the worry when mom disappeared from sight ..he did not respond even when his father got the smartest remote controlled car in town.It was not natural that she had to stay awake nights to help him sleep. Often his father had to take him for a drive before he went to sleep -just as dawn was breaking.

She knew and yet, she didn’t. the heart often rejects what the brain sees. and so..when the all knowing doctor pronounced the diagnosis- ‘autism’, It was like the walls had come crashing down. strangely her pain..it was not for the grandchild but for the daughter.with all her strength she wanted to reach her daughter as she sat ashen across the doctor’s table.you see ,she was the one wizened with years. She was the one who had experienced the joy of seeing the tiny seed she had carried for nine months grow into this delight. She was the one who had gone through life’s trials and tribulations and emerged triumphant. So she was the one who felt the full impact of this blow. She had experienced it all -the joy of the first step,the sloppy kisses, the handmade cards, the little white lies ,the stage performances,the first salary and the seven steps her daughter took around the fire.

All of this and more flashed around her like images on a screen as she heard the doctor..almost as if from some far away land. bits and pieces..need for many hours of therapy, no medicine ,he may or may not talk….his words were like sharp arrows .they pierced right through her and yet all she could see then were flashes of her daughter’s childhood.There was nothing in her life that had prepared her for this. However ,when life strikes a blow,it deals you the strength to face it.

Strange are the ways of the world.Just when you think it is time to hang up your boots,you find yourself preparing for battle.so,at a time when SHE should be leaning on her daughter;she found herself being the pillar.Not for her the luxury of giving in to the emotions that surged a storm within.She could not lock herself up for half a day and question God…like her daughter did.There were meals to be cooked, a child to be bathed and loved and most important a daughter to protect. wasn’t that the vow she had made the very first time she laid her eyes on her tiny daughter?Questions-oh! they were in hundreds…would this child ever speak? would he ever go to school? how independent would he be in adulthood? would he be forever dependent? She couldn’t and wouldn’t voice them.She had to show the way yet again.she had to chart the map on a land that she had not traveled in the 70 years of her existence.

Intensive early intervention would give the best prognosis said the experts. and so began the endless rounds of therapies.She took over all that she had slowly relinquished.She was back to managing home and hearth so her daughter could focus on the child. How she longed to kiss and make this boo boo go away.But that was not to be. The question that eventually bothered her was about her contribution.what could she do? no amount of money,no medicine,no surgery could set this right.There was no turning back the clock.How then could she help. Home and hearth was fine but not enough.It did not bring the joy back in the daughter’s eye.What was the one thing SHE wanted to give her daughter? The one thing that no one else could.The one thing that could make a difference.she WANTED to make that difference.

Strange isn’t it ..that you can often not see what is right under your nose.When she knew it ,she wondered what took her so long to understand. Why did she need to hear someone mention “accept him as he is ‘ before SHE knew?That was when it struck her…the one thing she would carry with her to her grave was the unquestioning,endless love she had for her daughter.This was the one thing that her grandchild needed.This was the only thing that would make it alright for her daughter. a deep endless unquestioning love. after all,hadn’t she held on to it through the white lies,the bad grades,the choice of profession so different from what she thought was right?

She went about it quietly,systematically- plotting her bequest.It was like teaching her to walk again.holding her daughter’s hand and guiding her on the path to unquestioning love.she taught her to live the moment. She taught her to spot the smallest triumph and celebrate it.It wasn’t easy ,there were days where even she felt so weary.but together they prevailed.they celebrated the first word,the first tug for peek a boo and finally the first day in school.they know not what the future holds and yet are secure.secure ,because they have learnt life’s toughest lesson to live the moment. She didn’t know but she bequeath what scientists have always known….the biggest gains in therapy are made in an environment which is doubt free and happy!