Light the lights, turn on the future

This morning, I picked out a soft blue T-shirt for my son, and jeans, to wear to the Autism Day (April 2nd was chosen by the United Nations as “World Autism Awareness Day”. The blue color is a symbol of autism). All the kids in his school attended the event, organized by the City Committee. He seemed very happy, of course, he had no idea about the inferiority complex that many people think an autistic child might have.

Two years ago, wanting my child to be safe in the water, I ran everywhere looking for a swimming teacher for him. All the swimming teachers refused. One teacher, recommended by my child's special education teacher as having a lot of experience in teaching naughty and special children, made me full of hope when I went to him. Then, I felt my heart ache when he said in a stern voice: "You'd better not take him to public places because it might affect other children. If he accidentally pushes a child into the pool, how will you compensate? I'll be in trouble too." Many times, my child's door to integration was slammed shut and I could only shed tears, even though I had to pinch my own hands until they were bruised to force myself not to cry over such trivial things.

Another time, still at the swimming pool, the boy kept repeating the trick of tumbling over the rope that separated the pool. When the swimming instructor in the pool yelled, the older brother (my friend's son) who was with him stood in the middle of the pool and shouted: "Uncle, don't yell at my brother. My brother is autistic." The instructor was stunned for a moment. A few glances turned toward the two children. The boy's mother and I looked at each other and smiled. Then, I turned away to hide my tears.

It is difficult to blame a carefree boy or teachers who do not have understanding when the child's own teacher is not very familiar with autism. When my child was in integrated school, after two days of attending a course on special education (an additional course for all preschool teachers), my child's kindergarten teacher came back and said: "KN is an autistic child, so he has to go to a special school, sister. We have to find a special school for him to study, why send him to a normal school?" And another time, when she saw my child's younger sibling going to school, she happily petted her, saying: "Luckily, I still have this little girl, because my older brother is considered a waste." At that time, I just wanted to scream and ask her: "You work in education, but do you think it is so easy to "waste" a person?". But I held back and turned away to hide my tears.

There will be many times when a mother has to face her tears like that, when being a mother to a special child.

* * * * *

One morning, after taking my child to school, I turned around and saw a cheerful orange seller selling fresh oranges, so I stopped to choose oranges. Many people stopped to choose because the oranges were delicious and cheaper than at the market, because according to him, selling them at the gate of a specialized school would be a sin, so why would I ask for more? I came across another eye-catching story:

- Why do you always look sad? (The orange seller asked the woman who was standing in front of him, choosing oranges, she seemed to be a regular customer).

- Well, I keep thinking about him. How can I not be sad?

- Come on, the dead are dead, sister...

- Oh, three days before he died. He had been unconscious for a week, then he suddenly came back to life. He told me to take care of my son, he was sick like this, no matter what, you have to take care of him. Then he passed out again until he died.

She bowed her head to choose oranges, hiding a very light sigh. Yet someone standing next to her heard it, and had to secretly bow her head to hide her tears. She was almost 40. Her child, autistic, was over 10 years old. I was over 30, also carrying an autistic child with me, and many times sighed and blamed my fate for having to be tied down by such a special child. Even though I had my husband, siblings, and parents standing by my side, lending a hand, sharing my burden. I could never imagine how I could cope with life as a single mother with an autistic child, facing the pain of losing my husband.

* * * * *

Sometimes someone asks me, what is your dream? I say, my son is normal. Or if he cannot be normal, I hope normal people will sympathize and understand autism correctly. That's all, ten years have passed and that dream has not changed. The long journey following the child, when the child is a special child, the parents must always carry that dream. The slogan on April 2 - Light up, turn on the future - when the buildings light up the gentle and hopeful blue color to look towards autistic people, isn't that also not outside of that dream?

The other day, a friend told me to read “The Alchemist”. Believing in novels is probably the most romantic belief, like the phrase “believing in roses” that we often use in many situations. But there is one very real thing, belief is always the only tonic in many situations.

That book more or less changed my way of thinking. I stopped thinking about boring things. Simply because the journey of “The Alchemist” or the journey of anyone who knows how to dream is like Paulo Coelho wrote: “When we strive to become better, everything around us will also become better.”

“Life has its own way of testing a person’s will, it can be that everything happens at once or nothing happens at all”. “One day when you wake up, you will find that you no longer have time to do what you have always wanted. Start doing it today”. “Be brave. Be willing to take risks. Nothing can replace experience”… Like many people who are passionate about “The Alchemist” when they find sympathy for themselves, those philosophical sentences make me find myself again. I - once a girl with many dreams and ambitions, why did I let the sadness of my child being a special child easily overwhelm my emotions and spirit?

Sending my child to mainstream education for many years without success, sending him to a special school; having acupuncture, taking medicine according to doctor’s prescription… is a tireless journey with the spirit of “when sick, pray to all directions” that I, like thousands of other parents with special children, do the same. That journey will be really tiring, and may not reach the final destination if there is no faith, even if it is faith in dreams.

As long as you don't give up, you will get there. I always tell myself that./.