“When God closes a door, He opens a window.” (Author unknown)
As I stood in front of 80 moms at the National Autism Association of North Texas Autism Moms’ Evening Out on May 4th, I was in awe of all the hard work, determination and love that was packed into one room. The inner strength of this group of women was truly inspiring.
As my eyes scanned the room, bouncing from face to face in the crowd, I was humbled by the fact the each of these women had traveled the same road I had...and all had become stronger, braver and more compassionate than they once were. Some were familiar faces that brought back memories from a specific struggle in my autism journey. Others were new faces. But it didn’t matter, we already knew each other.
For each of us had heard those dreaded words, “Your child has autism.” Each of us has stumbled trying to put our child back together again piece-by- piece. And each of us has our own book-worthy story. The stories my differ in the details, but in the end we all want the same thing….healing for our child.

Summer Camp for My Son and Yours: New Beginning for Teens and Adults with Autism
By Angela Day
”Unteachable.” That’s the label our school district put on my son, Mason Day, when he was three years old. They anchored him behind a desk and had him do the same task over and over…then wondered why, halfway through the year, he stopped doing it correctly.
Possibly because he was bored?
That never occurred to the school. When he was four years old, I started teaching him at home using Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA), a teaching style targeted to children with autism. Within three months he went from completely non-verbal to a vocabulary of 123 words. By age seven he was promoted, with supports, to a regular classroom.
Speed forward a decade. Mason is in 11th grade and is 18 years old. He has worked at Hobby Lobby, the Lutheran Church, and TJ Max. He also volunteers at the Recycling Plant, one of the best unpaid helpers they’ve had. Mason works hard, stays on task, and strives for perfection, but recycling is not really satisfying to him. He feels unchallenged because he’s not working in his field of interest.

Throughout the month of April, in honor of Autism Awareness Month, Maureen Bordelon has shared some guest blog posts from her website and blog, My Autism Hat Rack. On this journey as parents of children with autism, we do have to learn to wear many new hats. In this post, Maureen writes about wearing a running sweatband to chase (and keep safe) her little runner. As this is a common and frightening issue many families face, I I hope find Maureen's post - with details about what worked in their home - interesting and helpful! ~Leigh
The "Runner Sweatband"- Only Green Lights Here!
By Maureen Bordelon
I gave birth to Jonathan when I was 34 years young and as most new Mamas, I wanted to lose the “baby” weight. Of course, it was the bagel sandwiches, Tex-Mex and stuffed jalapenos that put on the “baby” weight - not really the baby, but it sounds better - right? Little did I know, I would drop the baby weight when Jonathan started walking…correction running at 14 months old.
Yep - we had a Runner! This might sound “advanced, cool, active” to most people, but if you have a child on the spectrum – RUNNING was a very scary “characteristic” of autism in our home.

As Autism Awareness Month wraps up, I feel a bit guilty about the bah humbug attitude I have had this year. Maybe it is because I have been at dealing with autism for over seven years, and I just don’t feel like getting in the “spirit of autism” this year.
In the beginning, I remember the rush each April would bring. I had never had a cause before, and it felt good to give back and to do something that mattered. I was going change the world, and I was going to do it all in one month! I helped at a booth at the mall, I gave a huge autism awareness cake to the school, I wrote articles for the school newsletters, wore my "Green Our Vaccines" shirt everywhere, posted all kinds of stuff on Facebook and even stood with a sign in an autism-related protest.
Now seven years later, quite frankly, I am tired of autism. I am tired of the fact that there are endless treatments to try for my daughter, and the guilt that goes along with picking and choosing which to try. If I try one new treatment, what if the other one was the one that was going to work for her? Usually we are doing so many treatments at the same time, how do I know which, if any, are really making the difference? When can I ever rest with the peace-of-mind that I have done everything I can do and just accept who she is?

When I hear the words “circle of life,” my brain clicks to Elton John belting out,
It's the Circle of Life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle
The Circle of Life
and I picture Simba’s dad from the Lion King holding him up with pride, presenting him to the entire world. This is so sweet and sentimental, how can you not love it?
One afternoon, the words “circle of life” took on a whole new meaning. The circle of life was not only sweet and sentimental, but could also be downright hilarious.

Last March (2011) as World Autism Awareness Day approached, I wrote a post – Autism = The New Normal? Here’s what I wrote at the end of the post:
“As April approaches, I say bring on the awareness and bring on a ton of added acceptance for individuals living with Autism Spectrum Disorders, too. Please. But, let us not forget for a moment that we (as a society) need to focus on prevention in a big way. While we don’t fully understand what is 'causing' Autism Spectrum Disorders, we do know there are likely environmental and genetic components – probably working in tandem to create this group of symptoms we presently label ASD. These kids are often very physically ill in a variety of ways, have impaired communication skills, struggle with gross and fine motor skills, experience significant social challenges, and must learn to live with developmental delays, repetitive behaviors/focuses and often cognitive challenges. Autism is exhausting. Autism is expensive. Autism takes a heavy toll on families. And yet, Autism is continually increasing…
This spring, my prayers include thanks to God for the many blessings present in my life, but I’m also praying for future, unbiased studies which will address Autism causation and prevention. We need answers and guidance.
Autism may very well be the new 'normal' if we don’t turn things around soon.
Do you feel the same nagging sense of urgency?”
Now, as I reread my words on the heels of the CDC’s announcement last week that 1 in 88 American children (and 1 in 54 boys) lives with an Autism Spectrum Disorder (up from their last estimate of 1 in 110), I feel a sense of urgency more than ever before.

Sometimes living life with Autism is like living life inside a pressure cooker. It takes every crack or instability in your life and bursts it wide open. The pressure it puts on a family physically, mentally and financially can leave even the strongest person emotionally standing on a ledge, wondering if she should jump.
Right about the time I was emotionally on that ledge, Lizzie decided to put herself physically on top of a ledge. This ledge was about 8 feet long, 3 feet wide and 4 feet tall of solid concrete. It was not enclosed because it was actually the corner of a balcony. The size of the ledge wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the balcony was 15 stories high.

The newsletter from my oldest son's pre-school came home. Sure, the newsletter was a happy color of yellow with cute little pictures of smiling kids on it, but what was typed in dark black letters had the potential to ruin our lives forever! It read, “Due to the increasing number of allergies amongst children, for the safety of our pre-schoolers, we are going peanut free.”
What?????!!!!! How were we ever going to survive? Andrew was the pickiest of picky eaters, and the only sandwich he would eat was peanut butter and jelly. And those delicious mini-Ritz crackers with peanut butter in the middle, how could we possibly go a whole five hours without those? Then there are the mouth-watering Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and the endless delight that peanut M&M’s could bring. My son was going to starve, I was sure of it. I could already picture him running out to the car after pre-school, and I would need to immediately hook him up to a peanut butter IV.
I mean, are severe allergies even real? We never had allergies like this when I was growing up. Was this a case of crazy, over-bearing parents that had nothing better to worry about? How is it even possible for a little peanut to cause so much harm? It is just food.
I was sure my concerns were justified. And then it happened to me.

Last week Julie Hornok wrote a touching, heartfelt post HERE about children with autism speaking the words “I love you” to their mothers. I deeply appreciate her words as they very much mirror how I feel and reading them made certain sentiments Ethan proclaimed in the last week, ever so much sweeter in my eyes.
Over the long (President’s Day) weekend, twice Ethan said words that warmed my heart and gave me the motivation to keep on keepin’ on with all that we’re doing.
First, Ethan was avoiding doing what I had asked him to do, focusing instead on something more appealing…either LEGOs or a book, I can’t exactly recall. After redirecting and reminding him several times, when I was about to get more firm, Ethan did what I had been asking and then came over to give me a big hug. With the hug, came these words, “Mom, do you know why I love you so much? Because you’re so kind and calm.” Gulp.

There are many rights of passage as a parent. Holding your baby for the first time, seeing your baby’s first toothless open mouth smile, and watching your baby take her first steps. But nothing can compare to the first time you hear the four most beautiful words come out of your child’s mouth: “I love you, Mommy!” Somehow those four words validate every sleepless night, every dirty diaper changed, every missed social event, and every pound of baby weight that tightly grips your thighs, no matter how you try to lose it.
I don’t remember when my oldest, Andrew, said those meaningful four words to me. I would assume he said them when he was between two and three years old. When he did, I took it for granted. It is not that I didn’t enjoy it; I just never thought about it much because it happened without any effort on my part. It was an expectation that comes from the natural progression in a child’s life.
Autism moms don’t talk about this because the very mention of it brings too much pain to bear. All those years of waiting to be validated for physical and mental strain and emotional trauma that consumes the life of a mom with a child with autism. She could be given the Mother-of-the-Year Award and be praised by hundreds, but it doesn’t matter. The only person she wants to acknowledge her love is her own child. She wants to know for sure that her child really does love her.