This is an old blog that had resurfaced on FB and was attracting a little interest again. I had been attempting to give different family perspectives on Andy’s autism.
Continuing with family dynamics this is dad’s perspective.
Andy was named for Big Andy Ritchie, the best ever footballer to play for my beloved Morton. Jen went along with it because we liked the name, but for me it was all about Big Andy. He was a magician with a football and brought the most incredible joy and excitement into our lives. I played a wee bit myself and when my kids came along I had a notion that one of them would be a footballer. Things have not worked out that way however. We knew before Andy was diagnosed that he had autism. We delayed putting the wheels in motion because Jen’s mum was battling cancer and we were having another baby. Life was so busy. Andy was in many ways a good baby and really bonded to me and I wasn’t sure (still am not sure) what difference a label makes. Many around us however doubted what we told them about Andy and I suppose it was as much about them to a degree.
The diagnosis was a formality in a lot of ways but also a confirmation. I cried at the diagnosis. I cried because it officially confirmed what we already knew. I cried for what might have been, but most of all I cried because I loved Andy so, so much and it was not the life I wanted for him. To me he is and always will be perfect in every way and this seemed to be saying he wasn’t.
Life as Andy’s dad is both a privilege and hard, hard work. His support needs to live in a neurotypical world are high and this affects most aspects of our lives. We are learning constantly about him and his autistic world and it is a very interesting world! It is demanding of time and has no awareness of, or respect for the “normal” world we neurotypicals live in. He experiences the world differently and has little interest in our world most of the time. I guess the secret is to accept and embrace Andy’s autism and support him to live as full and as joyful a life as possible. Mostly I feel we do this but at a cost of limiting our own life. Generally this is fine but I regret the times I let my other children down by not being there or by not having the energy to support them as much as I would like. The privilege and rewards are in the connections we make with Andy and at these points in life the joy is over-whelming and as a parent and a family there can be few better things. Even though he doesn’t speak (yet) he conveys his love for his mum and dad and brother and sister in his own way.
As his dad I sometimes feel guilty about the amount of time and effort I put in with him. It is frequently more than for my other two beloved children but I have come to realise that as a parent you respond to your children’s needs intuitively. Often that need is greater for Andy and although there is risk (of neglecting the others) it is a risk I have to take because he needs the support. As a family we are a strong unit and Andy is at the centre of that. Andy’s care needs also affects the amount of time Jen and I get to do anything together. Fortunately we are both completely devoted to the care of our children. When I consider Andy’s autism and its impact on our family I am not sad as I know that he is very special. Wee Andy provides a joy and awe in our lives similar to and beyond that provided by Big Andy on a football park and for me it couldn’t get any better than that!