finding new hope

This morning I found a fellow autism parent on IG, and spent a while getting lost in her account. Another amazing advocating mama. But the biggest take away I got — her son was nonverbal until four and a half. And now he is just absolutely thriving. It was more than inspiring for me. It was hope.

Noah just had one of the best weeks he has had in months. And what makes it that much more unbelievable, is that his world and routine has been flipped upside down.

He was thrown into a brand new therapy, basically with strangers — all new therapists. A new building, new sounds, smells, and expectations. Also, he’s nonverbal. I couldn’t imagine, could you?!

But the second day we showed up for therapy, Noah couldn’t get to the door fast enough. He walked on in without even glancing back. No crying, or falling to ground. Or me having to comfort him in. He was more than confident, and completely happy to be there.

I had never really seen that before. Not so quickly at least. To say Noah is brave, is an understatement.

And he has begun to do things that I didn’t know when or if he’d ever do. Handling daily tasks and transitions like it’s no big deal. Starting echoic manding. And pointing/using his PECS book for so much communication.

A few days ago I was texting with a friend. I told her I had a small confession. That I was starting to believe Noah would be nonverbal for a very, very long time. Not giving up hope — never. But for me and my sanity, I was headed down that path of acceptance.

But, almost instantaneously, I’ve know taken a few steps back on that path. And I’ve started to once again believe that my Noah will talk one day.

It might not be any day soon, and I know it’s going to be one of the hardest feats to overcome. But I do believe Noah is capable. I’ve seen a new willingness, and a calmness in him that is everything to us right now.

We know we’re doing it all, anything we can to set him up for success, so maybe, just maybe one our greatest wishes and hopes for Noah will come true.

We just want him to be able to tell us what he needs, what he feels. We need to know he’s okay. And however he can tell us — through his talker, PECS book, or verbally, that’s our number one goal.

And now more than ever it feels we are getting closer to that goal. I could cry just writing those words.

One thing this journey has taught me, that I know I couldn’t have learned on my own, is that the little things in life, are actually the big things. And what you thought was important — status, image, what others think of you, isn’t at all. And what is important is love, communication, understanding, and hope.

Maybe that last one is just me, but this new found hope makes me feel like anything is possible. And that is everything.