Yesterday I was sick. I mean, awful stomach issues sick. Actually I think it was a bout of food poisoning that I got from my favorite restaurant. A much needed mommy night out alone with a friend, lots of chips and salsa, two margaritas, and a few hours later I felt like I was dying. Needless to say it was a long night and I am not in a hurry to return to my used to be favorite eating establishment.
So yesterday morning, my husband lovingly took the day off from work knowing that I wasn't up to par. He let me sleep in, closed the door, and just let me spend the majority of the day in bed. A rarity for me, which just confirmed my suspicions that I am missing nothing from daytime television.
I wasn't there to send Jacob off to school. Nor was I there to pick him up. In fact, I didn't even see him until much later last night, close to 7:00 pm. My husband after picking him up from school took him and the baby girl to one of Jacob's favorite places for the afternoon, the farm. (Well, as much of a farm as you can have in a metropolitan area!) The day wasn't over with the farm, and they ended up going out for dinner, leaving me to a quiet house and no responsibilities.
I figured Jacob was wondering about me.
So I wasn't surprised when I heard the house door opening and the familiar sound of what I knew were Jacob's footsteps. He walked into my darkened room as if on a mission. I could tell he was in a hurry, but not with the normal wild abandonment, instead with careful control over his body as if not to disrupt anything. Immediately he walked to my bedside.
"Mommy, are you ok?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes, Jacob. I'm ok," I answered.
"Oh mommy, I feel so bad for you," Jacob said. "What can I do for you?"
Jacob's eyes said it all. He looked at me with such deep empathy, as if saying, "I've been there. I know how bad you must feel". It was as if the roles had been reversed with him wanting to care for me.
It was such a quick moment, but I can honestly say it was one of the times I felt the most connected to my son in his seven years of life. With those few words I knew how very much he wanted to take my pain away. With the look in his eyes, I knew how very much he loved and cared for me. It wasn't an automated learned response, it was genuine concern and love. It was empathy.
How I wanted to keep that memory forever. How I wanted to say "See! Look at my son! Right here, right now!" to all those people who say those with Aspergers can't possess empathy.
But who is it that lacks empathy?
Is it truly those on the spectrum that lack in empathy?
Or is it the rest of the world who can't understand?
When Jacob is overwhelmed with the world around him, is it empathy when you dismiss his feelings because it is not overwhelming to you? Or when Jacob is anxious about a new situation, is it empathy to brush his concern to the side and tell him to "Get over it"? Or if Jacob invades your personal space, is it empathy to recoil and think to yourself, "I wish this kid would back away."?
Better yet, when I am out with my son and he is having a moment, is it empathy when you stare and look at us disapprovingly? Or what about when he acts out aggressively, is it empathy when you chalk it up to bad parenting, rather than seeing it for what it actually is? Or when after a bad day I need to vent, is it empathy when you downplay the struggles associated with having a child with Aspergers? Or is it empathy to share and gossip with others discussing my son as if he is the weather, rather than the sweet boy he is?
So tell me, how can we as society say those with Aspergers lack in empathy, when we are not empathetic to them?
Jacob is the most accepting, non-judgmental child you will ever meet. It's not that he doesn't notice other's differences. He has Aspergers. Remember? He doesn't miss a detail! No he sees it all. The difference? He just doesn't care. Jacob wants to and will be friends with anyone who accepts him.
So maybe the lesson needs to come from him as the teacher. I'm sure Jacob has a social story or two he could share on the subject.
