Back in the Saddle

The call came as I was preparing dinner, straining gluten-free spaghetti through a colander for me and my youngest boy. I have to pause a conversation about Lego Star Wars to pick up the phone, and as I glance down I see it’s my mom’s cell, so I press “talk.”  After a brief greeting I ask her how Justin’s horseback riding lesson went, and I hear a slight pause, which my imagination rapidly fills in for me. I immediately worry that Justin doesn’t like this new stable, the one with the trainer who I’m hoping will get him to the Special Olympics this fall. My thoughts are no more dire than that.

          What my mom says instead takes my breath away momentarily, shocking me as this has never occurred in the almost six years Justin has been riding. “He fell off the horse hon, but he’s okay” my mom reassures me, and then continues with “and damned if he didn’t want to get right back on.”

          Knowing my boy, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

          Apparently Justin’s horse was startled by another equine friend in the ring, and fortunately my son slid from the saddle right into the waiting hands of his trainer, with only the indignity of his bottom hitting the ground. In the seconds my mom contemplated whether she should risk going inside or not she said he simply stood up, grabbed his trainer’s hand and pulled her toward the mounting block. With the other hand he pointed straight at his horse.

          My boy doesn’t need to talk to make himself understood.

          Once more I make sure he’s okay, hear his excited “eeeeee” in the background as I wrap up my conversation with my mom so Zach and I can eat our carbs. I tell my youngest that Justin fell off his horse for the first time but wanted to get right back on.  Zach responds that his brother is very brave, and I smile at him in agreement, telling Zach that I think he shares this same trait with his sibling. There is a request for the parmesan cheese I’ve forgotten to put on the table, and as I make my way to the refrigerator I am hit by the magnitude of what has just happened. My son has fallen off a horse. He didn’t cry, fuss, or try to leave. Instead, he got right back in the saddle.

          The truth is, that’s what this family does every single day.

          I have two children with autism, one severe, one mildly affected. To my everlasting pride (and relief) they are both safe, productive, and happy. I attribute this bounty in part to great teachers and aides, excellent therapists, an involved family, and of course, time and maturity. All of these ingredients have coalesced into a recipe for success, an outcome I am grateful for every day.

          But if I’m perfectly honest, it’s falling down and getting right back up again that has been perhaps the most important ingredient in this family, a trait I’m proud to say we all share. I’ve seen this occur after time with Justin, whether it was watching him learn how to ride a bike, conquer an educational game on the computer, or, and most difficult for him, see him manipulate his mouth to form coveted consonants. This kid never gives up, and I don’t believe it’s a trait one can teach. I believe in him it’s innate, a force of nature which propels him on in all his endeavors, one I’m very grateful he inherited from his obstinate and purpose-filled parents.

          Truly, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

          Soon I am being pestered for cookies from Justin’s equally brave brother, and my reverie is broken as I search for more carbs in our pantry. I’m asked often how our family has made things work, how we’ve managed to create a palatable existence despite the demands of an often difficult disorder. I am loathe to give generic advice to families as everyone’s situation is so different, but here is one universal truth I feel comfortable passing along. No matter what issue you’re facing, if you fall down from the weight of it try your best to brush yourself off, and keep on going. It is the one constant that has always worked for this family.

          And my most heartfelt wish is that it works for you too.

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