My Early Christmukkah Miracle and Thanksgiving... 2 Years Later

If we are friends on Facebook, you would have seen my post about yesterday's phone call. The kindergarten called and the initial reaction is to vomitus alotus. Now, most parents go into minor cardiac arrest when the kindergarten calls. Most likely it means your kid has a fever or has stuck a marble up his nose which means you have to leave work in the middle of the day, whispering a bazillion apologies for God forbid having had that white wine that one night when you were ovulating, to rush out and pick up your child. No parent ever EVER EVER wants a middle of the day phone call from the place that is watching their kid. The Husband and I are especially sensitive due to the fact that at the old daycare, at least once a week we would get a phone call because the Kid was freaking out and they were ill equipped (read: incompetent) in dealing with him and one of us would have to drop everything and rush back to pick him up.

So yes. There was a phone call yesterday from the kindergarten. And they called to say that the Kid was for the first time ever, playing with the other kids. Not just judging them from afar. But actually, PLAYING WITH THEM. For, like an hour. The woman on the line was crying happily which made me bawl in deep sobs. I need some better mascara, guys. When I got home in the evening I looked at the Kid and I was like "DUDE! YOU ARE AWESOME!" and he just looked at me blankly and walked into my closet. You do you, buddy! YOU DO YOU!

This morning, I brought him to kindergarten and the woman who had called yesterday greeted us and then said "You want to see the pictures from yesterday? It was amazing!" and I couldn't think of the German translation for "Do Jews love a sale?!" so I just nodded and we sat down and she whipped out the camera and showed me the pictures... and before I continue... I need to go back to exactly two years ago, the night before Thanksgiving.

The Kid was almost three and the Kindergarten (the bad one) had been complaining about his behaviour for over 8 months. I had already received the infamous "Aspergers" letter diagnosis and I was a wreck. I had met with a couple of therapists and one American speech therapist had come highly recommended and we booked her to come to our apartment. I had to work late so the Husband was on duty. I texted the Husband just after 7 in the evening to ask how it had gone and he texted "It went well." and I was relieved. I headed home just after 8, the Kid was asleep, I made dinner and then the Husband and I sat down to eat. He then stopped eating and turned to me and said "Actually, she said we have a serious problem." and then I knew. I just knew. And I wanted to throw up. The next morning I headed to work and the therapist and I met around 10 at my work to discuss the night before. She pretty much told me that the Kid was severely autistic and that we would need to dedicate at least 40 hours a week of therapy  and that most likely he would never be functional and we should even consider a home for him. And I died. I literally died inside. I cried and cried and after my coffee, I had to go back to work. And I cried and cried and tried to work. Something that day, on that Thanksgiving two years ago, died inside of me. I finished work and I texted one of my dearest friends  (D.K.) and said "I need a drink" and bless her, in her fluish state said "I'll be there" and she was and for close to two hours I cried my eyes out and she listened. And I will always be grateful for that. After a few glasses of wine, I gathered my stuff and with a heavy heart, headed home to the Kid who was maybe never really going to be OK. I thanked The Nanny, closed the door after her and walked into the living room.... and there was my little boy. He turned to me and yelled "QUACK! QUACK!" which was in reference to the DVD "Mickey's Christmas" he had recently discovered and I nodded and put it on. I sat down beside him, cautiously. Then he started to laugh. I mean, just full out laugh. And I suddenly realized at that moment that we were stronger than a stupid diagnosis. We were going to do this and we were going to do it in style. And while that day might have been one of the worst days of my life, it turned out to be one of the turning points of my life.

And so, my dear friends and readers. Today I saw some pictures. I saw pictures of the Kid tickling other kids, hugging other kids, copying other kids and playing with other kids, smiling and engaged. I have no witty remark to throw out about this moment because today, that moment looking at those pictures, might have been one of the most incredible moments of my life. Whatever life throws at us, I know we will handle it with style. And I want to thank every single person who has ever written me, thought about us, prayed for us or even has liked one of my Facebook updates. It means everything to me and to him. I know that this one hour yesterday of him interacting does not eradicate the years of therapy and struggle we have before us, but it is, at this moment, everything. I don't know what else to say but that I am so thankful. And I am so happy. And so, on that note, I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving because even if I am not American (but I did have an awesome meal with a friend, tonight), this Thanksgiving will always stay in memory as one of the best in my life.