28th August - My children are disabled

That's something I definitely took some time to truly accept, and to believe. Because when a child is diagnosed with a disability from birth, the disability then 'grows' with the child. You see the traits which make up said disability during all the stages of the child's usual growth, and you accept that straight away because it is all you know. For example, my cousin Harry was diagnosed with cerebral palsy within the first year of his life. It became very apparent when he couldn't walk or crawl at the stages where children usually display such traits, and in many ways, it was then easier to accept, because we all just knew... Okay, that's Harry, he can't walk. As a family, we got on with it, and all did our best to rally around him and find ways of making him still feel included.

For example, when my his older brother (Tom) and I would spend long Summer days (and nights) out on the front lawn playing football, we would lay Harry down on a rug in front of a small practice-goal (for those of you who are unfamiliar with a practice goal, it's a much smaller version of a real goal, designed to heighten accuracy of passing and shooting etc). He could then lay there and make 'saves' with his hands, wearing his goalkeeper jersey, and still feel a big part of what we were doing as we'd go over and applaud him for tipping one round the post. 

My children were different, in that aspect. I never really recognised any differences in their behaviour or general cognitive ability until their elder years. They were embedded into a culture where various languages were thrown at them, which may have proved confusing. A fluently Latvian mother, a Father who has since worked as a Professor of the English language, and a live-in Grandmother who spoke nothing but constant Russian. So there were no real 'alarm bells' ringing to me when their speech abilities were somewhat lacking behind their school counterparts. Most people in this country haven't yet figured out the difference between 'your' and 'you're', so imagine how hard it is to learn 3 languages before you've even figured out how babies are made. 

But then, by the ages of 8 and 9, it was perhaps a bit peculiar to both myself, and their mother, that both boys struggled to differentiate between the he/she and it/they pronouns. For example, cars, were/are described as 'she'. "Oh she's nice", whilst pointing at a car with no passengers in. Or "she's got nice lights', when pointing at a pair of trainers in a shop with flashing soles. It transpired, that both children are on the autistic spectrum. One incredibly mildly, the other a little bit more so, to the point where he was issued with a 'disabled person' bus-pass. Seeing that bus card, with his name on, and photo, and the title 'DISABLED' was probably the first moment I truly accepted it. To me, he's not disabled at all. Not because I don't want to believe it, I have no issues with disability, I grew up around people in our family with down's syndrome etc, so I'm fully on board with disabilities and how to treat people with them.

But just because he's the same boy I've always known, and loved, and his behaviour has never been viewed as 'different' to me. He's got that intense passion for things which is such a commonly autistic trait, where he'll become fixated with a children's cartoon character, or TV show, and focus 100% of his energy of that, all the time, obsessively so. He's also somewhat immune to incredibly loud noises, often turning YouTube videos on his phone up to ear-deafening volume before we have to remind him to turn it down again. I myself, later took medical tests and found that I'm somewhat (mildly) on the spectrum, which upset me and led me to feel guilty, as this is something I've 'passed' to them. But over time, I've become fully accepting and proud to declare to myself, and the world, that yes, all three of us carry autistic traits, but we are proud to do so. I feel no shame in using THAT word ('disabled'), because it's a horrible word which indicates somebody CAN'T do something, when in reality, they often can, but just require a different approach to it. So if you want to use THAT word, then we can. My name is Jake...

... And my children are disabled.