Me & My Poet

So a little over two years ago some light was shed on my son's interesting personality. My son has Aspergers Syndrome which is on the Autism Spectrum. The eyes through which Devyn sees the world and the unique way that his brain is wired still astounds me. Its a struggle at times for me to grasp the complexities of his divine design nevertheless I am indeed humbled to call myself his mother. Our mother/son story is an unconventional one. He came into my life when I was clueless and naive but so willing to know true love. I found it in his eyes when I was age nineteen, a mere baby myself. I discovered unconditional love staring right back at me in those adorable brown eyes. From the very beginning he was always such an agreeable child. It still amazes me how he entered this world and found his way throughout the years in such a non assuming manner. From day one, Devyn has had a reliable laid back manner. Although his father and I were nowhere prepared to be parents we struggled to figure it out even in the midst of our short lived relationship. We were young and completely mismatched as a couple could be. My son and I grew together. We came into our own together, yet apart. I attempted to raise him with a solid foundation that was relationship based where God was concerned. I raised him in my home church which was a Baptist setting where we attended Sunday services and weekly Bible studies. He was enrolled in a Christian preschool that tenderly catered to him and his pint sized peers. He was a lovable toddler who was surrounded with love and acceptance until things began to change when he placed in public school. My boy seemed to be having what I thought was a bit of culture shock in the first or second grade. For most of Devyn's life he had been in an environment that was accepting and encouraging. Here he was now in public school in a less accepting and loving environment where name calling was the order of the day. I can still recall my very first teacher conference. When I received the call that my son's teacher needed to meet with me my heart sank. I wondered what was wrong and how would I fix it. I came prepared for my meeting with my trusty notebook so that I could jot down her concerns and make personal notes as to what I should do. I was aimed with a plan without even knowing what was wrong. His teacher greets me and thanks me for coming, I sit and brace myself for what's to come but it doesn't. Panic had set in and had become deflated with the words, "Devyn has been hugging the children". What? Hugging the children? This was my son's offense? Hugging? His teacher goes on to explain that Devyn hugs all of the students and it makes them uncomfortable. I sat there dumbfounded that I had taken off from work early for this. The teacher politely shared that she saw nothing wrong with it but many of his classmates did not like to be hugged and had begun to call him names. My heart broke when she shared the name that these young children had called my child. Wow. I explained to her that my child had come from an environment where he and his classmates hugged each other all of the time and usually at the beginning of each school day but that I would ask that Devyn try not to hug the children anymore.

This was the beginning of something that I did not understand at the time. I simply just assumed my son was having a difficult time acclimating to his new school. The truth of the matter as I see it now he was unable to read a social cue. Devyn simply didn't understand that his gesture wasn't being received well and that he shouldn't continue. He didn't read into why. He just did not understand. As my Love continued to progress in elementary school his third grade teacher expressed a concern that he struggled to focus in class and would often stare off at times. She recommended strongly that I have him evaluated for Attention Deficit Disorder. I saw that recommendation as an assault against my parenting abilities but did so anyway because I did not want my son to struggle in school. With his evaluation and prescription for Adderall in hand I observed my child and tried everything that I could to help him. I told him the medicine would help him to focus in class. We prayed and struggled and cried and prayed some more. I changed his diet and read and read and read some more. Things improved and his prescriptions and dosages varied. I refused to give up. I believed that there was nothing wrong with my beautiful, bright son and refused to have dependent upon medication. In fact, the day he came home and announced that he didn't have his pills so how would he be able to do well in school was the day that I decided that he no longer needed them. Call me a bad mother but my fifth grader would not believe in the power of a prescription nor be dependent on it. I became his support and advocate and he excelled as I knew he would.

He was still somewhat awkward in social settings and in his interactions with others but I always believed it would be something that he would outgrow. Fast forward several years and he never did. His father and I switched primary parenting roles when he was in the eighth grade. A decision that I regret to this day and I have yet to see growth in him socially. My heart ached over what I believed was my fault for not being there to guide him and place him in environments that would foster his interactive development. I couldn't get past the idea that I had dropped the ball, that I had done something wrong, that I had somehow failed my child. My baby was growing up but somehow not blossoming and it was all my fault. After his dad and I finally settled into the concept of what was really going on with Devyn he had just completed high school. I read and read about Aspergers and was flooded with an overwhelming sense of guilt, relief, fear, trepidation and concern for my son. I wondered how would he navigate through this maze of a world? Would he be okay? Will he be happy? Is he lonely? Will he have friends?

After getting past the overwhelm of information and sitting down and speaking with a counselor that I happened upon at a children's event, my heart was comforted to comprehend that everything would be and is perfectly fine. I began to see my son for the very first time through a different set of eyes. Aspergers is not his diagnosis but his divine imprint.  It is the artful way that our Creator chose to wire his brain cells and allow him to view the world. Devyn's name means "poet" and for me remembering that I am so blessed. When I named my son it was never planned. I wanted a daughter and had a name all picked out for her. His dad suggested having an alternate boy name just in case.  This was of course before the era of everyone being informed of their child's gender prior to delivery. I chose Devyn Paul which was close to his father's name. I didn't realize it then but his name was extremely on point for who he was and is as a person. He is in every way to me a "humble poet".  Just as in a poem I have learned such a great deal from him, if and when I look a bit deeper.  When I try not to understand him but to simply experience him I am taught so very much. We are redefining our relationship in his young adulthood. I am humbled step by step in the process. Each moment of frustration brings me closer and closer to releasing all judgment of what and how things should be. When I allow myself to I can learn a great deal from this humble little poet of mine. He has emotions like anyone else but is not ruled by them. How awesome is that?!!! My son's inability to process social cues or be led by them may just have liberated him to heights untold. He won't have the same struggles as I have and for that I am grateful. He will not be enslaved to what he should do or be based upon anyone else's assumptions. He struggles to read those assumptions or cues, so there! He's free! Devyn's wiring keeps me wondering if he's angry or distant with me because he is so very monotone and a bit mechanical in his exchanges. I am learning through my son how not to project what I'm feeling onto someone else. My poet is all reasoning with little rhythm. He tutors me in the art of simply being in the moment for the moment's sake, in engaging in a thing without engaging in every aspect of it, in seeing something without overanalyzing it of which I am great at.  He struggles at connecting the dots of personal interactions but it doesn't define all of who he is. He is content. He is loved. He is loving. He is enough. Gosh, I can learn so very much from the simplistic complexity that is my son. Thank you God.