My Girl

My girl is growing up. She is not as grown up as many of her friends. Fashion isn't something she cares about. She tries to join in about music. She can have very adult conversations 1 to 1 and if there's a baby around she's a lot more competent and capable than quite a few first time parents. Tonight we went to a concert with a group of girls from her class. These girls love her even though she's weird and grumpy, and whilst there are sometimes a few issues at school they seem pretty normal for 8 year old girls. Tonight I cried. I cried with joy that these girls wanted to include my girl. That they looked past the spinning and the ear defenders and kept encouraging her to join in. I cried that she was joining in and dancing with her friends. I cried with relief that she didn't physically hurt somebody when it got too much for her. I cried with sadness that she stands out. Whilst the other girls danced and danced, my girl stopped. She stood dead still and stared at her glow stick. I saw. Then another mum noticed. Oh dear. Has she reached overload? Yes. Yes she has. I was thankful for you noticing as often people just don't see her struggles. I was also heartbroken that other people are noticing more and more that she isn't quite the same. I've fought for years for people to hear me. To hear that she finds life really hard at times. Now, although relieved, I wasn't quite prepared for the heartbreak that is somebody pointing out your child is odd. When the kids on the school bus ask why she has a special cushion. When football coaches assume she requires 1:1 support in the classroom. When the paediatrician describes her as lacking in non verbal communication and having immature social interaction. When the nurse describes her as the girl with special needs to another parent (curtains aren't sound proof!) She managed tonight though. She's silent now. Absolutely exhausted. When she shut down in the crowd of little mix mad tweenagers, wearing her ear defenders, swaying and staring at her glow stick, she came to me before I went to her. She came and stood with me. I asked her if she needed to be rocked and she let me. Often she will not use her weight, her fiddle toys, or display her self soothing behaviour at school in front of people. My girl did have fun. Even if it was only for two songs and having a bag of glow sticks, she enjoyed it. She had to contend with anxiety about how to behave and fit in, deal with not knowing what happened at a concert. Noise which hurts her ears. Lights that burn her eyes. She enjoyed being with her friends. Doing something grown up. Whilst her behaviour is becoming more noticeable it means she is being more herself. She's developing a social group who love her and her oddities. People who she can be herself around so she doesn't feel stressed. I'm not going to be one of these people who are thankful for autism. Or who feel autism is a gift. Autism makes all of our lives hard. We worry constantly. What if she lashes out? What if her anxiety gets so bad she can't attend school. What if she's bullied? What if we can't access the help she needs. For our girl she lives with physical pain due to hypersensitivity and hypermobility. She feels panic if things don't go to plan. She feels everything deeply, or feels nothing at all. Our son has to come second. He has learned that sometimes it's easier to give in rather than meet his needs. He misses out on parties because she just won't go. No, we aren't going to be pleased to be in the special needs club. Especially when you look normal and can't access a lot of services as such. We are learning new ways though. Different ways. Ways to join in with the real world. Ways that she can grow up included and productive and hopefully happy. She's my girl. My clever and pretty girl. We are blessed to have her. She is more than a child with 'sub optimal social and communication skills.'. If we could get rid of her troubles I'd do it in a second. For now I'm just glad that she's loved, even if she's not understood.