May 1st – birthday gratitude hey-you!
As soon as we got married, I wanted to start a family. My preference was sons. Toss a daughter in there and I’d be way jazzed.
Adam is my second son.
It was right around 18-20 months that I suspected something was up. Maybe he was deaf? Mentally challenged? He had very few – and by that I mean, none – communication skills nor did he seem interested in relational stuff. At best he grunted; he displayed odd behaviors; clothes were an issue; change in routine was problematic.
Shoot ahead a few years… therapies… he was diagnosed with PDD-NOS. The term “autistic” was on the table. After extensive research, I concluded that my second son was indeed on the autistic spectrum. At one point, I was told that it might be possible my son may never be capable of communication as we expect it, that temper tantrums and social difficulties may be a part of our everyday.
I saw this as a possibility. I appreciated the frankness, the honesty. Still, I saw a different future for Adam. With time, I sensed he would blossom. Communication would be his destiny.
There were so, so many who helped, listened, guided, taught, waited, encouraged. We were blessed with wonderful teachers who kindly listened to my belief that he was slow-to-emerge-but-in-there-somewhere. Thank you, each and every one of you Sacred Souls.
Adam has knocked our socks off! At age 14, he wrote two symphonies which the college orchestra played for an audience of just me and Adam in King Concert Hall. Adam graduated from SUNY Fredonia with a degree in English. Currently living in a house in Jamestown that he just bought, he spends his days working for the CATO Institute as a writer/editor. It has been a dream come true for him.
This is his song. When I first heard the report that he may never call me Mom, never connect heart-to-heart with me… well, it took my breath away. I vividly recall going to the gym and running with my entire being – my soul, my mind, my body – to this song… and feeling the vibes of sadness, anger, fear leave me. By the end of the song, I felt confident that everything was going to be just fine. We would survive. Thrive, even.
Oh, and THIS is hilarious — I always told Adam his story. As he emerged, slower and “behind” his peers, I always whispered in his ear, “you are a miracle!” When asked to write an autobiography in one of his classes, Adam presented the teacher with his essay entitled, “Adam – The Making of a Miracle.”
Adam Christopher Glasier, I love you.
You. Complete. Me.
Much love & hope,