Not of my flesh...

He was not born of my flesh.
I did not hold him in his first days.
I am often spared his stumbles and heart-break
and I savor the experience when I witness his triumphs.

I have been Austin's step-mom for 5/6 of his life.  He is not an autistic child; he is a child with autism.  I remember the challenges of his first years, searching for the right diagnosis.  We were introduced to more acronyms than any family should.  And I remember crying in Daniel's arms when the diagnosis was confirmed by many.  You see, I'm a health care practitioner.  I rely on the blood test, the physical exam and the objective findings.  Autism is not like that.  Once you've met one autistic child you've met just one autistic child.

My favorite memory of Austin was when he was seven years old.  Dylan had just been born and Austin was with us for the weekend.  He had previously been fairly unconcerned about this new baby brother.  But on this night, Austin took a keen interest.  He carried him up the stairs and wanted to do all the bathing for baby Dylan.  He diapered him, clothed him and brought him back down the stairs to feed him the bottle.  I was a nervous wreck  And then, as quickly as the interest appeared, the next day it was gone.  It was a fleeting moment of the sibling attachment that parents so long for.  

There are many great memories and today I am so proud of the adult that he has become.  He is the captain of Stillwater High School's adapted soccer team.  Last year he was voted by his team as the most valuable player. The self-confidence I saw in him this weekend warmed my soul.  The crowds would cheer when he scored a goal and I could see his expression change.  He wouldn't jump up and down and celebrate.  In fact, I don't think he even smiled.  But I saw his posture change as he walked to the other side of the field.  I saw something different in his walk. I saw a different look on his face.  And as he looked up again, inside this child with autism, I saw his pride.