A Hard Place

On Sunday, Caleb was sound asleep when I visited—for the entire visit. I did everything, shy of pouring ice water on his head, to wake him up. At one point, I think he saw me. Dan was there and he swears Caleb's eyes opened just a slit at the same time he smiled. I thought that was him smiling in a dream. After that though, he did rest his arm on my leg and I felt he knew I was with him. Why couldn't he wake up? I checked with the nurse. No med changes. No seizures. The caregivers said he had been outside a lot before we arrived and there was obviously some problem with the ac unit for his building. So maybe the heat wore him out. I can only hope he is not depressed. You know how people tend to sleep more when depressed. His dad sees him this weekend and I go again the next. This is the way it goes for now. We are taking it slow on the visits, so he can adjust to his new home and community. I am torn. But I pray, and rest knowing Caleb is safe in God's arms of love. Yet, am I a terrible parent? I ask God this now. Anguish and autism go hand in hand, at least in my experience. My torment has moved from what could I have done better to what can I do? Oh, God, I am in need of help. Thank you for being everywhere at once and being Caleb's one perfect parent. I release my pain to you. I release Caleb to you. I trust.

Happy Caleb Day!

I got to see my sweetheart, finally, after three weeks. Here he is at Brenham State School. Compare to the photo before the move (April 4th post). He is happy.

"Hello Mom"

Those words are priceless to me from Caleb. Our conversations are brief - only six more words - I say I love you and he says it back. It's the tone I listen for. I see his face. He smiled the other day. When his caregiver came back to the phone I said I knew he had smiled. She confirmed.

"Yes, right now he is laughing and slapping his leg. He seems happy."

Exactly what a temporarily banished mom needs to hear.

Caleb is safe.