The Birthdays That Autism Forgot

On the 29th November, my son turned eight. Eight years in and this doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. I think back to that blissfully ignorant first birthday, before the tendrils of autism began to wrap their way around my heart and dreams. I casually invited friends and family round, we sang, we played, we took pictures. I just figured every year would be as joyous, as simple. It would get even better when Charlie could dictate what he wanted to do for his birthday, what gifts he’d like (I’m reminiscing about folding down the pages of Argos catalogues as a child). I had no idea then that I would never hear him ask for those things, that he wouldn’t know his birth day to be any different from the day before it or the day that came after. I don’t mean to imply that Charlie’s birthdays have not been happy occasions. That would be completely inaccurate and unfair. It’s just that celebrating birthdays when your child has autism often means letting go of everything you’ve ever been taught about celebrating birthdays.

For starters, he isn’t interested in the traditions. Yet every year I wrap presents knowing he probably won’t open them. I light candles that may never be blown out. I buy cake that he will not eat. Every year I dwell on the milestones we’ve missed. I can’t help but think about where we should be now, what we should be doing, what we may never do. Charlie smiles anyway. And do you know what this makes me realise? All of that stuff, the things we’ve been conditioned to do and say; it’s not important. That’s not actually what birthdays are. Birthdays are for celebrating a light that was bought in to this world, and maybe that light doesn’t need what everyone else needs. And maybe that’s ok. The stuff I continue to do in the hope that perhaps one day he’ll be like “Oh yeah, birthday cake obvs…” that’s all for me, NOT him. It’s me trying to fool myself in to thinking we are “normal” and we aren’t. We are extraordinary.

It’s oh so easy to get caught up in the whole “woe is me” vibe of being an autism parent. Particularly when things like Birthdays and Christmas come along. It can be a lonely place. It’s not intentional of course, but my friends and family can’t always understand how I feel. If you don’t live it, you can’t begin to understand. But wallowing doesn’t make it feel better. It doesn’t make it go away. It just makes me feel sad, it makes me feel like shit if we’re getting really specific. So this year I decided NOT TO DO IT. I almost fell at the first hurdle. I had a wobble the night before and a little cry and then I told my self pity to fuck off and I focused on what was important. My son, just having a nice day – doing the things he loves, with the people that care about him. THAT was the easy part. I may not know everything, but I sure know how to love and I know what makes his little face light up – so that’s what I set out to do, from the second he woke until the moment he closed those beautiful little peepers.

Schwoooooooooooo – Did you hear that? That was the sound of all that “what shall we do for his birthday” pressure evacuating my brain. And we had the best day. Instead of overwhelming Charlie with the expectations of what we feel his birthday should be, we just let him show us the way. Allowing him this control actually resulted in him part-opening some presents (I tore the corners off so he could peek at what was inside) and he was quite happy for my sister and her little boy to sing happy birthday to him. We went trampolining and Charlie scored his first ever basket. We then rounded the day out with Pizza. To be fair, I’d be pretty chuffed if that went down on my birthday. He may not have known how special the day was to us, but he knew he had a lot of fun and that we love him.

I’m not going to turn this post in to a “Tips for celebrating birthdays when your child has autism” guide, because as I’ve mentioned previously, no child with autism is the same. All I will say to other parents and carers out there is to let go of whatever YOU need or want the day to be. It isn’t easy, but the sense of relief that comes with it is incredible. We set so many expectations for our lives. We place so much emphasis on what other people think. We make decisions based on a future we know nothing about; and it’s damaging. In a way, Charlie’s sense of freedom, spontaneity and nonchalance to the opinions of others is actually quite enviable. I look at him, not just on his birthday, but every day and I sometimes wish for the peace that he feels about his own existence. There aren’t many things that I thank autism for, but I am grateful that my child is happy. Even in a world that doesn’t always make sense to him, he’s figured out how to be happy. Some people spend their whole lives searching for that secret and they never get there. So maybe that’s actually what we should be celebrating?

So birthday number eight turned out to be a roaring success. I may have cried the night before but I went to bed on November 29th with a smile on my face and a warm, fuzzy feeling in my heart. And to be fair, even if it had gone tits up, at the end of the day I’ve kept a human alive for eight years and I think I’ve done a pretty good job. So Happy Birthday my beautiful, darling boy. I am so excited to see who you become.

If you’re new to the blog you can read more about our journeys with autism right here.

Much Love

Beth Anne xoxo