I wanted to melt on the floor and cry. There were people I needed to talk to. There were classes I needed to attend. I needed more answers and I needed someone to tell me what the next step was and what I have missed on this journey. There was a sense of urgency and a creeping feeling of overwhelming anxiety that if I didn’t get into one of these doors, the world was going to come crashing down around us.
I think he wanted to cry. I wouldn’t say it was pity in his eyes, because that would’ve made me mad. But it was definitely worry in his eyes. He worries about me a lot. I know he does. He worries about how I will take care of Brian on my own as he continues to grow. He worries about the fact that when Brian gets upset like that the only way to calm him is for me to hold him in my arms. And he’s already more than a third of my own weight. I can’t do it for much longer. And how am I going to calm him when I can’t? He worries about my future all the time. He’s my Dad, that’s what Dads do…but with autism in the mix, it’s a whole other story.
