leonniefm 14 April 2009 My Life 163 views 9 Comments Print This Post  Email This Post

It is nearly three months now that every Thursday Fajar, my husband, would get up from bed earlier than any other day of the week. I would take my shower earlier too. Thursday is also the only day we would wake Igo up instead of letting him get up from bed whenever he feels like.

Every Thursday at 11 AM, for another one month, a therapist would guide every of Igo’s step and evaluate every single response of Igo’s for forty five minutes in a class called sensory integration therapy.

My first born son was confirmed Autistic last year by his pediatrician who specializes on children with special needs. Based on his diagnose and the therapist’s observation, Igo must take the therapy class to make him feel comfortable in receiving inputs. After that he can continue to other therapies and treatments to help him to learn, talk and/or even socializing. And it will not be anytime soon.

Igo just celebrated his fourth birthday early February this year. Unlike any other four years old, Igo has not yet talked, refuses to be touched by almost everyone, does not like crowd or loud voices, does not tolerate his food and his bath in different temperature than he is accustomed to. Igo simply lives in his own mind and world, too sacred for anyone to let in.

Somehow like a planned scenario, two months ago I lost my nine-to-five job. With a help from some friends I got a home-based job which allows me to be closer to Igo, and  got involved with every part of his home program and therapy class.

Within those two months, as every progress of Igo’s is noted, somehow I feel I was rewarded more than Igo himself. I could not ask Igo how did it feel for him when he was finally able to call me “mama” but I can tell you I feel like… I feel like… I feel worthy. When I saw him stare me in the eyes, that very second I jumped off my chair because Igo rarely made an eye contact with me. He opened his arms, almost running toward me, and when he was just a step away from me……… he said “mama”, then his eyes disappear with his face bumped to my thighs. I felt my tears running down my cheeks and before the warmth disappears, Igo turned his body and walked away like it never happened.

But it happened. It happened very clear to me. I play that scene over and over in my head and heart almost every minutes because that was the first time I ever heard him call me intentionally. That moment will always be inside me. I hope one day I can tell Igo about it, and he will understand.

Igo brought back that moment several times since then. And every single moment felt like the first time for both of us. I remember one moment when Igo even ran down his little hand over my wet cheek and looked me in the eyes with huge curiosity. The thought of reporting the event to his therapist was blown away by a sudden hug he gave me afterward.

One of the home programs was to give Igo a bear-hug every other hour for ten seconds. Igo did not like it very much in the beginning. As if he understood how touching him was very important for us, he began to bear-hug us instead. He would came from behind me and gave me a tight hug and even kissed my back. In moments like that I could do nothing except accepting, receiving and embrace the warmth. If I tried to turn and hold him back he would run away. I must wait for him to hug me from the front if I want to be able to hug him back. None of my hug was received without at least a little shrug from him. When he finally let me hold him close, it was simply heaven. Most of them would not last long but who am I to complain?

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I received a hidden blessing by getting my new home-based job. I do not have to hear people using the word “Autis” (= Autistic) as a joke on daily basis. Igo does not understand the concept of such joke. Igo does not even know that he is different from most children. I am somehow glad that Igo does not have to understand that “normal” people could be that ignorant and cruel.

The more I see how Igo lives his life, I feel that in a way, he is a lucky special child. He could choose on few things he want to concentrate on and forget about the rest. If you see that Igo spends most of his days smiling, you get the feeling that the world he knows is a beautiful world without too much complications.

I no longer expect people to change and understand Autism. Not for Igo, not for me. If one day they choose to stop using the term as joke, I would think they might have found a new term to use. For most people it is only a matter of trend. It would be more heart-breaking to hope such mind to understand new knowledge, let alone to be sensitive.

I have Igo’s siblings to teach about what is Autism and why Igo does not behave like other people they know. I hope I will be able to brought them up to be people who will not be blinded by some temporary trends. I want them to be the people who use each word correctly, accordingly, with understanding and compassion. By then they will not have to say, “I’m sorry, I did not know what I said.”

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