April lives with the worries and fears of a mother whose child suffers from autism. She wants the same things every parent wants—but she has fears that most parents are blessed to never know. If she dies, who will take care of her son?

by April Boden

I have come to realize that I am living in denial … maybe.

I accept.

I accept that life isn’t fair.

Well, no I don’t!  I want to.

Well, no I don’t!  I want it to be fair.

It isn’t!

I understand it isn’t fair, but to understand is not the same as acceptance. Life? If it is not fair, then what is it? For me, it is painful, it is difficult, it is challenging, it is full of love and joy.

It isn’t hard to find traits within my son to love—his face, his smile, his dimple, his laugh, his hug, his touch, his eyes when they are fixed on mine, the look of anticipation when I’m about to read the part in Where The Wild Things Are when the wild things roar their terrible roars. … His being. … His soul is the very light and energy that love itself revolves around.  He held this light before his vaccine injury and since then it has remained.

So why am I not satisfied?  But I am. I am satisifed with the light … the being … the soul … but I want more.  I want the person … the TRUE person within to emerge.  Who are you Aydan?  What do you like … what do you see … why does the grass feel good (or seem to feel good) on your bare feet?  What is in your heart?  Who are you?

I have never entertained the notion of perfection.  If I had a perfect child, why would he want me as a mother?  I resent the notion that by wanting to know my son … wanting him for who he is … who he is really … who he was before vaccines … who he was meant to be … is an effort to make a robo-Aydan.  As if I wouldn’t be completely happy with a nerd, geek, pierced Emo. I could not care less about perfect or normal or whatever societal ideas of perfect are … and I know what you’re thinking … but no …  this isn’t denial.

So, how am I in denial?  I deny that this may be the way things will always be.  I deny that he may always need someone to help him. I deny that he may never have a friend.. I denied it at age 3, because “he was only 3″. I denied it at age 4, because “he was only 4″. I denied it at age 5, because “he was only 5″ … Age 6. … Age 7 … Age 16?

I deny that I will die. I deny that I will leave this world without knowing he’s taken care of. I deny I will leave this world without knowing he’s free from this prison in which he lives. I deny, son, that when I’m gone there will be no one on this Earth to value you … as I do!

Tell me son … What do you like?  What do you want?  Who do you want to be when you grow up?  What does your voice sound like? How does a lemon smell to you?  Will I ever know?   Will I remain in denial that I may not?  Can I accept that? Will I? If I say “yes”, does that seal your fate? If I say “no”, does that mean I cling too tight?

I’ve heard stories in my life of couples with grave difficulty conceiving a child. For years they try … they long … they prayer … spend thousands, sometimes millions of dollars in hopes that they will bear a child. Then one day, they accept they will not … they weep, they move on. They decide to adopt and, poof, they are pregnant.  How does that happen?  Will I ever let go without a hidden agenda that like the couple: Poof! … you will come back to me?

Today, Aydan, you are 7. Someday, son, you will be 16, but today you are 7 and we have work to do!  This week in autism recovery looks like this:

1. Call the lawyer to get status on due process case with school.
2. Continue with CEASE therapy, order remedies for new clears.
3. Daily aloe, zinc, fitamin C, omegas, whole food supplements.
4. Order the Urine Toxic Elements Test.
5. Massage on Wednesdays and Sundays.
6. Epsom salt bath nightly.
7. No more eating with fingers.
8. Resume walking everyday, preferably nature hikes.
9. PRAYER.

Prayer. I prayer for you. I prayer for us. I ask the God within us both to have the strength to rise to whatever this violent, unfair, joyous life has in store for us.

I cannot deny. I cannot let go. Is that denial a false sense of hope? Is that asking too much?

Forget it. … forget it!!  I want it … I want you Aydan. I want to know you. I wanted it when you were in my belly. I wanted it when the vaccine took you away. I wanted it at 3. I want it at 7 … and I imagine I will want it at 16 … at 65—that is, if you have not returned to me yet … ’cause after all, I’m not dying.

This essay is also published on April’s blog at http://aydansrecovery.blogspot.com/, where she’s trying to raise $110 to pay for Aydan’s Urine Toxic Elements test. She are following up on chelation therapy to remove toxins safely. Any help is much appreciated—including prayers.