I Hurt For Him

        There are moments when David's eyes find mine. Filled with earnest intention and pleading they hold onto my gaze. His hands move about as he babbles, "Aa, da, da, da." 
        He's trying to tell me something. 
        But like a bud, unopened, his thoughts remain tightly wrapped within. I long to get inside his head. To know what he's thinking. How much he understands. 
        I want to see the world through his eyes. Know of his pain and fears, his hopes and joy.
        If only I could break through that wall of silence and frustration. 
        Then, maybe, I could really help him.
        I provided him with physical, speech, occupational and feeding therapy--sometimes all in the same week. I consulted with the best and most acclaimed therapists in the valley. We even attended a five week behavioral feeding program in New Jersey. 
        One of the many doctors I saw said, "I admire a mother who is prepared to go to the ends of the earth for her child." 
        "We recognize you're a force to be reckoned with," another doctor said.
        Maybe so.
        But I didn't cure David of autism.              
        I can't fix him. I can't make it better. I can't give him a normal life. 

        I get to stand by, knowing of all he'll never do and all he'll never become. 

        Maybe he's unaware of his many losses, but I'm not. 

        So I hurt for him.

        He'll always depend on others, never knowing the satisfaction of caring for himself, or the freedom of independent living. Confined to his own lonely world he'll never know the joy of marriage or the tenderness of holding his own child. 

        As he struggles to reach out and connect with others, I wonder if he'll ever have a friend.      

        I asked a 70-year-old friend of mine who has a disabled child if the pain ever goes away. She smiled wisely and shook her head, recounting how she now feels sad her 40-year-old son will never get married and have a family of his own. 

        "Each life phase brings a new reason for mourning," she explained.

Angels Watched Over Him

"Owing to their innocence and purity, little children enjoy unique privileges with regard to angels. In fact, little children are so significant to God the Father, Jesus Christ and the kingdom of God on earth that it is possible that they sometimes enjoy the presence of angels."

(Parry, D. W. [2013]. Angels: Agents of Light, Love and Power. Deseret Book Company: Salt Lake City.)

     I dreaded night time in the hospital. Those nights were so long and lonely. I'd wake up unexpectedly to find myself alone in some strange, uncomfortable bed, surrounded by darkness.

        From the adjacent rooms of the maternity ward I heard the cries of newborn babies. I imagined those babies snuggled in their mothers' arms. And then the tears would start to well up inside of me. My whole body shook as they rushed down my cheeks in a flood of anguish and grief--my precious newborn was on life support in another part of the hospital.
        I couldn't stand to be away from him. I wanted so badly to be able to be able to comfort him. To hold his little hand and stroke his head and watch him sleep and as I silently prayed for him.
        I was his mother. He needed me. And I needed him. 
        I needed to be at his side to help him heal and grow stronger and he needed to feel my love and know I was there for him.
        But my body was too weak. Still recovering from severe complications, I was unable to get out of the hospital bed by myself. So I lay there. Stuck. Helpless. Trapped.
        My baby needed me and I couldn't be with him.
        Was he also alone in the dark?
        The next day I found the comfort I was seeking in a scripture. Marcelle, my mother-in-law, brought over a copy of the Church News for me to read while recuperating. In a quiet moment I picked it up and there at the top of the front page in bold print I read: 
       3 Nephi 17:24
       "And as they looked to behold they cast their eyes toward heaven and they saw angels descending out of heaven as it were in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled with fire; and the angels did minister unto them." 
       These words penetrated my being with a powerful force. It seemed as if that scripture had been written specifically for me at that time. The Spirit spoke this truth to my mind and to my heart--my baby wasn't alone, angels watched over his small, weak body.