As I'm writing this, I am watching a movie called "Miracle Run." It's a true story about a single mom raising her autistic twin sons. After getting the kiss off from her boyfriend ("It's not fair, I didn't sign up for this! I can't do this!"), and butting heads with the school district to the point of slapping them with legal papers, a special education instructor approaches her and works one on one with the boys and her, teaching them the basics...colors, shapes, sounds, words, speech, daily living skills. The boys eventually go on to high school, with one boy joining the cross country team and winning the championship and the other boy auditioning for a music school...over the phone! Their mother, Corinne Morgan, remarries (her handyman) and eventually starts The Miracle Run Foundation.
I love this movie.
I hate it too.
Don't get me wrong. It's a painfully accurate account of what no doubt so many of us experience as autism parents. Shock, grief, denial, bargaining, depression, and eventually acceptance. Judgmental glances and holier-than-thou comments made by sanctimoms who have no clue what you're going through. People who you think are in it for the long haul suddenly bail on you and leave you feeling even more alone and disillusioned. Schools stick your kids in a corner where they don't have to be dealt with. You are blamed because you didn't recognize the signs (neither did your accusers!). Life as you once knew it is suddenly turned upside down and you are made the master of juggling each and every detail, even the ones that seem small and insignificant. I can't make it through this movie without crying.
At the same time, I can't help but feel some pangs of guilt when I watch it. Why? Because Corinne seems nothing short of a rock star! A warrior mom! She fights for the lives of her children, sparring against the medical field as well as the educational system, settling for nothing less than a normal education and a normal life for her boys. Her efforts paid off. Both of these young men finished high school and went on to pursue college careers. She started a foundation. A foundation! How do you DO that?
Did I not do enough? Did I not try hard enough? Did I wait too long to have Matthew diagnosed because I was not ready to accept it? Did I just ignore what was right before me the entire time because I didn't want to be uncomfortable? Did my own missed diagnosis come into play at all during all of this?
I know I shouldn't compare myself to Corinne Morgan or to anyone else on or off of the spectrum because we all have our own journey, our own experiences. Sometimes though that is easier said than done.
I look at this remarkable woman and I see all that she accomplished. I see her trials (well, the trials represented on the small screen anyway) and I see what she and those boys came through and I can't help but ask myself, "What am I doing wrong?"
Sometimes on this journey of autism, not to mention life, I feel small. I feel insignificant. I sometimes wonder if anything I have shared or done has made any kind of impact or even the tiniest shred of difference. I know too that it's not about me. I guess I just want to arrive at the end of my walk here on earth and know that somehow, someway, my life made a difference.
That's all I want.
To make a difference.
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