Joel is a maniac. That kid never stops. Over the past year he has gained 1 pound. We feed him very well and he eats every bite at every meal whether he wants to or not but he is as skinny as a rail. It’s because he exists at about 130mph. When things were at their worst he was the hardest for me to deal with. I’m not entirely sure why but I did not get along well with him when he was a baby. I think that I was scared because he was so small (3 pounds at birth). I know it was in part due to the fact that I was so selfish. Most of the hospital trips and health issues belonged to Joel for the first 2 years of their lives. It angered me that he was the source of so much turmoil for our family. I knew better than to think that I could place blame on an infant, but I needed an outlet and as much as it shames me to admit it now, I chose to resent him.
Hannah and I used to talk about it. We both knew that it was a problem. I treated him differently than I treated Caleb or Andrew. I just cared less about him. It’s hard for me to even write this now because as I sit here reading the words I feel such deep guilt and shame. I’m not that man anymore but I can barely face the ugly truth that I was at one point in my life. I used to beg God to change my heart, but I was so afraid and so broken that I couldn’t allow Him to break down those walls.
During the first months and years of autism my battle grew in intensity. Because he struggled so much with his temper and self-control it only served as more ammunition for my selfishness. I convinced myself that it seemed like Caleb and Andrew were like me, but Joel was just different. I couldn’t figure out why my child would behave in such a manner. Reflecting back it’s easy to see that I was projecting my frustration at my own lack of self-control on to him, not easy to accept, but easy to see. His fits were so much more violent than Andrew’s. Andrew would wail and moan and cry on the floor, but he’s always had a little bit of a flair for drama. Andrew’s fits were pitiful. Joel’s fits were angry. He would slip into a fury and just shudder before going berserk and biting or punching or head butting. He bloodied our lips. He blacked our eyes. The only way we could keep him from hurting himself or others was to pick him up and try to contain him, but that only gave him a target. It was humiliating in public, but it was even more infuriating at home when there was no one left to impress. I thank God that Hannah and I were always enough in control that we didn’t hit our children out of anger but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come close. There were weeks that passed at a time where I felt completely out of control, like a blind piñata, you don’t know when or how hard the next hit will come, but you know eventually you’ll bust open and everything you’ve tried so desperately to contain will spill out for the entire world to see.
Slowly and by the gracious hand of God I started to grow. Joel also started to grow. I started to see that he and I had an understanding of one another that I had never noticed before. We both experience frustration and anger so deeply. I started working with him to control him anger. At first I had to control it for him, restraining him during his fits and talking him through them. He didn’t really understand the words, but God allowed me to speak to a little boy who understood no one. He started to gain control of his emotions and his anger and being outclassed by a little boy with autism spurned me onward in love to be a better father. We’ve worked through so many things together. Situations that would have sent him into a downward spiral now (with slight encouragement) warrant a giggle. Situations that would have sent me into a brooding anger can now be shrugged off as I recall how far we’ve come. On the rare occasion that things get to be too much for Joel, he and I have a ritual. It starts with something to interrupt his thoughts, (a snap, or a whistle). Once we’ve made eye contact I just say, “Joel, control yourself.” I then get to be witness to a wonder. Joel will stop and tense every muscle in his body; just shaking with intensity. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out relaxing, and it’s over. Just like that he’s back.
The night that Hannah was bathing Joel and he said, “Mom, you’re messing up my mane!” (a quote from The Lion King) we experienced a joy so complete as parents that it couldn’t have been matched by the greatest accomplishments elsewhere in the world. This last year Joel received the “Best Reader” award in school. For a kid who couldn’t look us in the eyes or speak a coherent word for over 2 years, that is nothing less than a miracle. Because we’ve tasted pain so bitterly, joy is so much sweeter. Joel is an awesome little man and I love him more deeply than I ever imagined I could love. We serve a great and powerful God and He longs to let us all taste joy so completely that it will never be matched. I’m just grateful He let me share it in the life of Joel Abner Tate.
No comments:
Post a Comment