On a rainy weeknight, as I taught a college class, I returned to my lecture stand and my cell phone while the students did an independent task.
“Let me see my daughter,” I text my husband, who is home watching Brielle so I can fulfill a lifelong dream and do this one-semester gig.
A photo comes through on my phone, of her lying in my bed, watching her iPad videos, a big smile on her face.
“Aah that smile is my medicine,” I reply.
In our world that is often so quiet, her smiles and laughs speak volumes.
After a full day of work, I know I should be right there in the bed next to her, snuggling and spending time with her. But for my sanity, for my parenting, I know it’s important to pursue my dreams, to not let the craziness of my life stop me from achieving goals separate from being her mom. Hence this class at my alma mater.
When I’m away from her, I’m always thinking about her. Even when she’s with her stepdad — and there’s no one I trust more than my husband — I’m worrying. Seeing that face reassures me that she’s OK, even if it’s only for a few hours.
When it comes down to the basics, parents — all parents, not just autism parents — just want their kids to be happy.
Her smile makes me smile. Her laugh makes me laugh. She is infectious.
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