Twas the night before my son’s 14th birthday and all through the house were balloons, wrapping paper, and little pieces of tape that I tried to pull from the spool only to see it come back, curl around, and stick upon itself, rendering it useless.
There was a massive dinosaur balloon, the most ambitious of his yearly giant decorations. It came with no instructions. Just five massive pieces, four weighted squares, and a tiny straw. It felt like I was in a brain teaser.
The point I’m making is that preparing for my son’s birthday was big. I wanted the room to be perfect from top to bottom. We had a cake coming, a plan for a meal with loved ones, and a full day of happy singing. It was going to be wonderful. I just knew it.
When people hear that you go all out for your child’s birthday, they give you a pat on the back and follow up with statements like “he’ll love it” or “I bet he really looks forward to his special day.”
And, for the past 14 years, I’ve pretty much had the same response.
I dunno. Maybe?
Lucas is non-verbal with autism and 14 for him looks very different from another 14 year old boy. His morning routine requires help on my part, he needs supervision with many tasks, and he hasn’t yet “outgrown his dad” as many boys his age seem to have done. I’m not sure when, or if, that will ever happen. It’s almost positive that he will need assistance, in some form, for the rest of his life.
None of this is a problem for me. In fact, I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of his autism and how it affects his view of the world. The pure way in which Lucas goes through life is a sight to see. I envy his outlook and wish I had the courage to express emotions the way he does. I’m so proud of the person he is and the fact that he’s my son.
Of course, having a unique personality stretches across many varied parts of life. One such way is that, well, I never really knew if he “got” birthdays.
In the early days, my son was somewhat oblivious to celebrations. I could never fully know if he understood what was going on, that he was the guest of honor, or if he even comprehended the idea that we set certain days aside for festivities.
Dating back to a disastrous second birthday party (that I detail in my upcoming book), Lucas’s approach to holidays veered off the traditional path. Still, we celebrated. Actually, we didn’t just celebrate. We went all out.
My take on it was that, even if there was a 99% chance he didn’t grasp what was happening, there was a 1% chance he did. I used to say that I, as the parent of a non-verbal child, live in that 1%. If there’s even a sliver of hope that he understands, I want him to know that we are here for him.
Since those early years, that 1% has grown to ten, twenty, and so on. Today, I’m fairly sure that he does know something special is happening. Although, truth be told, I’m not completely positive.
And that’s fine.
We don’t do things like this just for someone to pat you on the back or thank you for the effort. We, as parents, do these things for our children because we love them. We do it because our kids deserve it.
I’ve tried to make efforts through the years to help him know about events that he might otherwise walk into blindly. Whether it’s running my hand over his head and calling out “buzzzzzz” prior to a haircut or creating a bathtime song when it’s time for him to climb in the tub, I’ve made it my mission to remove some of the mystery from the world for him.
Birthdays were a big part of that. I noticed from a young age that Lucas responded to the Happy Birthday song. Perhaps it was seeing that it came with candles, dimmed lights, and a chorus of people singing that made him notice. Either way, when I sing it to him, he stops short and stares at me, taking it in. He knows that it’s something special.
So I start singing it to him in the days leading up to the celebration. By the time it comes around, I feel like he’s prepared.
This is the part where I’m supposed to talk about how, this year, he woke up on the morning of his day, saw the decorations, and jumped for joy. This is the big ending that shows he definitely understands, helping me push forward to the next year.
Yeah, that didn’t really happen.
Rather, he came into the kitchen, posed for some pictures to appease me, and enjoyed breakfast. He didn’t interact with the balloons or signs. The decorations didn’t fill him with joy…or at least, I don’t think they did.
What did happen was that he was in one of the happiest moods you can imagine. There were smiles, hugs, and cries of joy throughout the day. He even gave his sister a big kiss on the cheek when we walked into the restaurant. Did the festive-looking house have anything to do with that?
I dunno. Maybe?
If they did, that’s why I do it. If they didn’t, I’d do it anyway. My son deserves the best birthday ever, and not because he asks for it. He deserves the best birthday ever because he doesn’t ask for it. He asks for nothing and that’s why I want to give him everything.
Maybe one day he’ll tell me what kind of cake he wants, what color balloons to get, or what movie he’d like to watch on his big day. Or maybe he won’t.
Either way, I’ll keep showing up with decorations, dinosaur balloons, and a chorus of Happy Birthday, just in case.
Because if there’s even a chance he feels the love, I want him to know it’s his. Every year. Every time. No matter what.
READ NEXT:
My Non-Verbal Son is 13, Not “Mentally 6” – Here’s Why That Matters
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