Trusting My Son, Trusting Myself

He sits on the swing, lost in thought, oblivious to everyone around him.

I call his name. No response. I call his name again. Still no response. I can feel the anxiety creep into my chest. “Rob, are you OK?” Finally, an answer. “Yes.” That’s it. He goes back to staring into space. I feel a lump in my throat. I have seen him like this one hundred times before, but every time, I feel the disconnect. My son is just not there, not aware of me, withdrawn into an Asperger’s world. I want to know what he is thinking. I want some kind of communication—even just a look, a smile, something, but it doesn’t happen.

I keep trying. Finally, it occurs to me to just ask him “Rob, what are you thinking about?” Another 30 second pause. I ask him again.

“Phinias and Ferb. Dr. Doofemshmirtz is funny.”

I feel the connect, my anxiety fades.

“Daddy, I’m bored.”

“Then ride your bike.”

He does so. Susie wants to follow him. She does. We all move toward a park bench about 100 yards away. When we arrive, Rob announces that he wants to go home. I have left the stroller back at the playground.

“We need to go get the stroller.”

“You go get the stroller and leave Susie here with me.”

“Rob, I can’t do that.”

“Don’t worry Daddy. I’ll watch Susie, Daddy. You can rely on me!”

Hearing this, a tear wells in my eye as Susie snuggles up with him.

“I’ll stay here with Rob, Daddy. You get the stroller.” She trusts him so much, looks up to him.

The tear in my eye. I can’t believe how beautiful my son is. Moments before, he was unable to communicate with me, now he is pledging to take care of his three year old sister. I cannot express the panoply of emotions that flow from my heart—gratitude, awe, disbelief, and fear, yes, still this fear that this moment will fade and Rob will drift back into an autistic world where I cannot reach him. But for now, utter joy. For this moment, the curtain drew back and my son was revealed to me as he really is—loving.

I can rely on Rob. A few weeks before he melted down so badly he threatened my wife and threw eggs at me. Now, I can rely on him. A roller coaster, but I can rely on Rob.

I have to admit that, at times, I wonder if I have the emotional resources that some parents have. I love my children, but I can become overwhelmed with how to handle Rob. Am I being too hard on myself? Probably. I don’t know many Dads who could calmly handle the meltdowns Rob has had. I struggle with shame. I grew up with a father who had a wicked Irish temper. He was and is a very generous man, but witnessing his explosions as a kid felt humiliating. Witnessing Rob’s explosions brings me back to those humiliating moments, when people would just stare at my father in disbelief.

For weeks I was frozen in that kind of humiliation again, wondering what my son would do next. It passed slowly and the thaw came completely with Rob’s proclamation that he was reliable enough to watch Susie. It had to be my sensing his self-confidence, that he had once again regained control of himself, that he trusted himself. And so my heart let up and the joy returned.

I hope that we can continue to foster self-confidence in Rob. To do so, I need to be in a situation where I know that people have confidence in me. My wife has an enormous amount of confidence in me. Her love and her trust sustain me. Unfortunately, right now, I am unemployed. I miss the camaraderie of being part of a team. I have a dream that I can work with a team of people who sincerely see my talents and who trust me. Having that confidence, which is socially infectious, will help me foster confidence in people at home.

Trust begets more trust. And the tricky thing about trust is that you cannot pretend that you have it. It has to well up freely from your heart as you share it without fear of loss. The Biblical term for trust that most of us are familiar with is faith. Faith cannot be coerced from a person, cannot be socially manipulated into a person. Faith is a gift. To live and work in a community of faith. I pray for that empowering gift.