If anyone would have told me 5 years ago that there is joy in autism, I would have laughed in their face. Actually, 5 years ago, it would be more likely that I would have cried.
Because I truly didn’t know or understand the world of autism yet.
I still don’t understand all of it.
When Brenly was a baby, I was obsessed with pictures.
Not just taking a lot of them. I was obsessed with getting the perfect one.
I would take 50 pictures in hopes of getting THE perfect one.
If I didn’t get it after 50, I would take 50 more. And 50 more.
It continued after diagnosis.
I actually think it got worse after diagnosis.
I wanted everyone to see a picture perfect family.
It was just me, trying to put on a show.
Trying to hide the truth. The real “us.”
Christmas pictures were the worst.
I would schedule our session and spend days and weeks figuring out the perfect outfits.
It filled me with anxiety.
It filled me with stress.
Mostly, back then, it filled me with sadness.
I knew we wouldn’t get a smile from Brenly.
I tried everything I could think of to prepare her for those sessions.
And we had to time everything perfectly.
We couldn’t be too early because we would have to wait. And we don’t wait well.
We couldn’t be late because then there wouldn’t be enough time to get the perfect picture.
I was in a bad mood before we even got there. Every. Single. Time. My poor husband. My poor kiddos.
I started off having all of us in dress clothes and then we would do an outfit change into pajamas. By the time we got to the pajamas, the kids were done and I was sweating and usually near tears. Keep in mind, these were only 20 minute sessions.
In those 20 minutes, for the first 5-6 years of Brenly’s life, we never got a smile. If we did, it was by accident. It broke my heart.
Why?
Maybe because I wanted people to know she was a happy little girl.
Maybe because I was hiding our reality.
Maybe because I yearned for a family picture that I could hang for our visitors to see.
Who am I kidding? We never had visitors.
It was a lonely world for awhile. And quite frankly, it still is at times.
Why did I care so much about what other people thought anyway?
And my poor, sweet girl being forced to take all these pictures that she never wanted to take.
I am ashamed that I made her do that. Just like when I said her name repeatedly and made her look at me even after I knew it was uncomfortable for her.
I have learned. I have grown exponentially.
We know what works for our girl now…most of the time.
We know that she is happy. We know that she is healthy.
After we went through the grieving process of being told our girl has autism, we have chosen to find the joy.
Because it is there.
It is everywhere.
It is in every single “I love you, Mommy.” or “I love you, Daddy.”
It is in every hug. Every kiss. Every snuggle.
It is in every teeny tiny step.
Brenly dresses herself every day.
She is trying new foods every day.
She makes her bed.
She cleans her room.
She plays pretend.
She tells us how she is feeling.
She is sleeping better than she ever has.
And by some miracle, like the flip of a switch, Brenly now loves to take pictures. I am getting my perfect pictures now. I’m not sure when or how it happened but I think it was when I stopped trying so damn hard to get it. Good things come to those who wait. There is so much more joy in that.
It’s hard. I’ll admit that every single time. Autism is the hardest thing I have ever done. And not every day is sunshine and rainbows. If you read my blog, you already know that. I still struggle with it.
But every day, we choose to find the joy, even on the days when we have to look really hard to find it.
It’s there.
Just open your eyes and your heart and find it.
The Beautiful Life of Brenly 