Just different

     Since the day we found out about Cash, my thought has been the same. Raising a child on the spectrum is not bad, it's different. 

     When he was younger and not hitting certain milestones, I would just think, well that's okay, he is different from his brothers. The biggest thing I noticed was that he was always playing alone.  It's funny the things I realize now, looking back on those times. I remember specifically my clients would ask, "When your older boys go to school, does Cash get upset?" My response was always "No, not all, he's happy to be with me." But the fact was, he never really noticed when they left. He was in his own world, which at the time, I didn't know. Once it was revealed what was going on, everything started to make sense. I know from day one that I connected with all of my sons. However, as Cash got a little older, connecting looked really different than it did with my other two boys. 

     Logan and I connected early on with music. This child was talking in full sentences by age two. We would spend our days running errands, blaring Elton John and jamming. When Cole came along, he and I connected with books and through snuggles. Of course, when Cash was born, we very much bonded through typical infant snuggles. It had been six years since we had a baby in the house, and we all couldn't have been happier. As he grew a little older, I was trying to see what "our" connection was going to be. Every time we tried to read with him, he ran away, ripped the book, or just started to play with toys. I couldn't understand it. I thought, okay my man doesn't like books, let's find something else. He loved lining up his cars, so I would come down to his level and try to engage. He would take my hand and move it away. I thought he was particular about his cars and didn't want me to play. This is about the time we received the diagnosis. Him not wanting to engage in play with me, or even anyone at school, all made sense. Me not finding "our' connection made sense. Not in a bad way, just different.

     Moving forward... 

     Cash is perfectly happy in what my husband calls “imagination station”. This is when he is fully engaged with his toys and scripting them through an adventure. I still can't help but think, is he ok? Does he feel lonely? This sounds silly because you’d think we could just ask him, but that is not always an option. Although he has come so far with expressing himself,  sometimes it isn't the easiest. As he's gotten older it has gotten better. The early days would break my heart thinking he felt alone in this world. With all this being said, about a year ago I found it-our connection! I didn't like that sometimes, when we put him to bed, he had the iPad. I felt it was more stimulating than soothing.  One night I decided to try something else-no iPad, just me and him. Let's be clear, Cash was not happy about this. Once he settled in, I lay next to him as he was still upset about the iPad. 

     I said, "Can I sing to you?”

     "Okay, Mommy,” he replied.

I did my regular  line up of "You are my Sunshine", "Jesus Loves Me", and "Twinkle Little Star". He was still awake looking at me with those beautiful big eyes, but I had run out of material. Then, I was able to come up with one more. I busted out the Barney theme song circa 1990. As I finished, my little boo was sleeping. He hasn't needed the iPad in over a year to fall asleep. Instead, he just says,  "Mommy can we sing?”  I don't care when, where, or the time, if my man wants his songs, I am all in. If the entire day I don't feel as though we have time or connection together, I know at the end of the day to  look forward to singing to him. Just recently, before our  bedtime songs, we started to pray together. His prayers are the sweetest, and I pray I never forget the sound of that little voice as he always ends in "In Jesus name, Amen". 

Fun fact, the Barney song must always be sung first, and Cash lovingly named it "The Family Song”.