Last updated on November 26, 2023
Podcast 0019; Season 02, Episode 05; October 2, 2018
People ask me how an autistic parent can be a foster-to-adopt parent. I might not be perfect, but with my wife’s support, I do okay as a father and I’m always trying to be better.
Transcript (lightly edited)
Scott: Hello and welcome to The Autistic Me Podcast. I am Christopher Scott Wyatt speaking as The Autistic Me.
This episode is taking a short break from the queued list of interviews that I have with other individuals to reflect on life as it currently is in our household.
It is almost exactly three years since our two little foster daughters arrived in our house. And it has been an interesting three years. And one that I will write about and talk about in the future.
It is amazing to look back though and recognize that they were little toddlers when they arrived in our house. And now they are in first grade and kindergarten.
One of the questions I have been asked when I speak to groups is how being an autistic individual with my own challenges has affected me as a parent.
And I have to admit, I frequently feel like I’m not the best example for them because I have struggles that aren’t that dissimilar from their own.
Obviously, these girls have endured experiences that brought them into the foster care system. And even though they were young when they arrived in our house, those experiences and the trauma of even being in foster care and waiting for resolution are difficult to measure. Those experiences and the stress that go along with those experiences are things that my wife and I will be working with the girls to overcome and to put behind them for success in the future.
I’m not sure how that works. And I don’t think any parent would be.
My concerns about parenthood deal with my sensory overload, my need for order, my desire to have quiet and routines. At times I like silence at dinner. I like quiet time before bed. I’m not used to the chaos even after three years, but I don’t know that any parent really adapts to being a parent. It’s a challenge for everybody.
It was more difficult for me this year because after taking two years off, during which time I taught online and completed my master of fine arts in film and digital technology… I had time with the girls. I was home during the day. I was able to see them. I was able to take them to their appointments. And I felt very engaged.
And now that I have returned to teaching full-time during the day and they are in school during the day, I feel like we’re disconnected in some way that bothers me.
I know that that’s normal for a parent who has been at home with a child, but for me, it’s an abrupt change to my routine as well as to their routine.
I now get up at least twice a week before they are even out of bed and getting ready for school. I depart by 6:30. They’re still in bed sleeping. I get home on the two long days that I teach after 6:00 PM. So I’m getting home… they’ve likely already had dinner. They may even be getting ready for bath and bed. And that’s very difficult for me because I’m not the one preparing dinner for them. I’m not the one checking their shoelaces and taking them to either the bus stop or driving them to school. It’s a very strange feeling to be outside of that routine that was so comfortable when I was home. And I do feel a sense of loss not being with them. And that’s hard to explain.
At the same time, they are loud and chaotic and normal children in some ways. And when they are loud and chaotic it… it causes me to become stressed. So. It’s not easy.
The question of how an autistic individual or someone with autistic traits deals with children is, honestly, it’s a challenge.
I feel really guilty when I’m not able to sit at the dinner table with them because I’m tired from driving. I’ve hit my limit in terms of inputs for the day. I feel lousy on the days where I am home early enough, but I have a stack of papers to grade, or I have articles to write or something else that must be done as quickly as possible. I feel like I’m not having the same amount of contact with them that they are accustomed to and that they might need.
I know my wife is home for them. I know that they receive all of the attention that they could get from her. I know that they have other supports. And yet I feel distant.
When the girls arrived at our house three years ago, it was supposed to be a temporary placement. While they were here it was going to give their birth parents time to get back on their feet and address some of their issues.
And now three years later, we’re the pre-adoptive parents of two beautiful, wonderful, energetic little girls.
I cared deeply about them.
I care about them as much as I care about my wife, as much as I care about my parents or my sister. They are family. They are my daughters. And when someone says that an autistic might have difficulty bonding, especially with a child that is a foster child, that’s just not true.
When someone asks me if I feel like they are my daughters, it’s not even a reasonable question to me. They are.
They are our daughters. They are our family. They are the best and most incredible gifts to arrive in my life.
And when I walk through the door late after teaching and they rush to me and give me a hug and say, “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!” there’s really nothing that equals that. There is no other thing that I could do that would equal that feeling.
Yes, it is difficult for me to understand the noise. I don’t understand the running about the house. I don’t like the meltdowns that they experience, which trigger headaches and panic in me. My anxiety is triggered by their anxiety. And I know that that becomes a problem.
I am working on explaining to them as they get older, “Daddy needs some quiet time. You need some quiet time, too.”
We have prepared a quiet space for the youngest. And we’re trying to teach the older sister how to calm herself down and how to meditate, how to breathe, how to refocus her energies and her anxieties.
Maybe I am… it’s, it’s difficult to even say… maybe I am the best support they could have because I do understand them. And because I can tell them, “I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed. I know what it’s like to feel like the lights are too bright, the sounds are too loud, the texture is too itchy. These are things I understand. I understand feeling alone at school and not sure if I want friends or if I want to be alone.”
As they struggle with feeling like outsiders or they struggle with the social connections, that will take time. And they will need to discover for themselves, just as I’m still trying to discover for myself, what is that balance between being social and being overwhelmed? They will come to recognize that being different is a challenge in our world that not being social and not being skilled at social interactions comes with a bit of a price.
I’m not going to lie to them about the world and tell them that it’s enough to be smart and good when we know that social connections are important in academic and business success. That your professional life will depend on being able to interact with other people.
My wife and I are incredibly fortunate that these girls are in our lives and we hope that they always understand that they are our daughters. They are our family. I love them more than anything else that I experience. And I want them to know that. I want them to know that Daddy is glad they are there every morning when I wake up. That I feel better when I tell them goodnight. Even if they’re asleep, when I get home, I feel better telling them goodnight. I feel good when I see them.
There will come a time when I can certainly comment more on the situation that led to becoming foster parents and then, hopefully, adopting these young girls.
And I wasn’t sure what was going to happen before they arrived. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to be a father, especially to children with potential special needs.
I have a lot of flaws. I am not the best husband. I’m certainly not the most patient father. And yet, when they tell me that they love me and they love Mommy, that they feel safe here, that’s enough. That’s enough to tell me that I must be doing something okay.
Three years isn’t a very long time.
I know that the years went by very quickly. And in the pictures the girls went from tiny little things to a kindergartner and a first grader. It’s amazing to me how quickly they grew up and began reading, began writing, began doing math. All of those things that children learn to do.
I look forward to them learning to ride bikes and participating in sports, maybe dance or music or whatever it is they love, whatever it is they want to do.
I look forward to being there and to watching those things and experiencing those exciting new events with them.
And at some point we’re going to have to explain how they came to be with us. And that will be difficult.
There will be so many things ahead of us that will be difficult that maybe other families don’t experience. But those difficult moments will be worth it because they will know that Mommy and Daddy love them and want to help them through whatever questions they have and whatever they need to do to find themselves and become young women.
This school year has been off to a rough start for me. I have severe back pain. I bruised or cracked some ribs. I am working Monday through Friday, two of the days from eight in the morning until 5:00 PM on campus. Leaving in the morning by 6:30. Getting home at six at night. Grading up to 108 papers right now for a writing class.
And I’m doing all of these things and working through this pain for the girls.
I want to be able to save up the money to do whatever it is we can do as a family. I want to be able to give them all of the things they need, whether it’s the dance lessons or gymnastics or physical therapy or some other support. Whatever it is they need, I want to be able to provide for them.
Okay. I also know that it’s important to be home with them. To bake cookies together as a family. To sit down for meals together as a family. To go for walks in the local park as a family. I know that’s important too, and that working mindless hours so I can earn money and plan for the future is not the best thing at all times.
There will be nights where I need to set everything aside and have a family night. We are planning to do family game nights on Fridays. We are trying to set aside parts of Saturdays to be with the girls and do fun things. These are all important aspects of parenting and things that I think every family needs to do. It’s essential to be there for your children, so they know they can talk to you and be with you and trust you.
Teaching has been very difficult. And when my students ,who are all young people, first-year college students, come to me and ask questions about life and what they’re studying and what their plans are, I hear and see my children now, which I never experienced before.
I’ve taught off and on since 1988. That’s 30 years of teaching, whether it was substitute teaching, student teaching, teaching at the college level, working as a graduate assistant .Thirty years, I’ve looked at different faces and I’ve seen and heard confusion.
And now when I see and hear that confusion in young people, I see my daughters and I think about preparing them for college and careers and life beyond. It’s a very intimidating task. And because I am prone to anxiety and insecurity and all of the things that go along with being me, I always worry.
Am I doing the right things? Am I being the best parent I can be?
I stay up at night, wondering if I was a good father that day. If I have raised my voice, if I have gotten frustrated, I will feel guilty and lousy for days. I will get knots in my stomach. I will feel tense. I want to be the best father I can be and I fall short of what I think I should be almost every day.
And that paranoia of failure, that insecurity that I carry with me, maybe it makes me an okay parent. Maybe it helps me because I apologize to the girls when I know I’m being unreasonable. Maybe it makes me a little better when I say, “I’m sorry, Daddy can’t eat dinner right now. I’m feeling too much stress. I’m hearing too many sounds. The lights are too bright.”
Whatever it is, maybe it makes me a better parent being able to explain what I’m experiencing and maybe it makes me better for saying I’m not always the best dad.
When I began The Autistic Me blog, it was to explain what it was like to go through college and graduate school as an autistic individual. It began as a school assignment. And now as a parent, what began as a school assignment is still an educational experience for me.
When I do a blog post, or I prepare a podcast, I’m reflecting on what I have done and I am trying to learn from those experiences so I do better.
I am not a successful professor. I’m on a temporary contract. I’m not a successful writer. I’m not even, as I said, the best father or husband, but I try. And I know that I try my best day, after day
Being The Autistic Me stinks a lot of the time. And when I’m feeling down and stressed, when a little five-year-old says, “Daddy, I want to crawl into your lap. Is that okay? “Then everything is okay. Even if I don’t want to be touched, even if I want some space ,somehow letting her be next to me and tell me that she loves me, makes it okay.
When the six year old says, “I want to read you a story I wrote”, and the story is about a lost little animal, finding a new mom and dad, and you smile and you get teary-eyed because there’s nothing so wonderful as a six year old, trying to tell you in her own way that she’s found her forever home and loves it here and loves you.
There are things I will write about and blog about in the future about parenthood.
It is difficult. It is not easy. The loudness in the car. The sounds at dinner. The unwillingness to take orders or to understand rules and safety. All of those things frustrate me. Having my space violated, where a child just walks into my room while I’m putting on my shirt and tie for the morning. Those things bother me. They do.
And yet you look at those smiling faces that say, “Daddy, I love you. I love Mommy.”
And these have been the best three years they could be despite some medical misadventures. Despite struggles through graduate school, again for the MFA. Despite so many things…
I wouldn’t trade these three years for anything.
When you listen to The Autistic Me Podcast or read The Autistic Me blog, understand you’re not reading or listening to someone who knows what he’s doing. I certainly don’t. You’re not listening to someone who is an expert in anything other than falling flat on my face, time and time again.
What I’m good at is getting up again and trying the next day. What I’m good at is saying “I’m sorry” to my wife, to my children and saying “Tomorrow, I’ll be better.” I even tell my students, “I’m not the best teacher.” I certainly am overwhelmed, trying to teach four classes and do research and maintain everything else I do.
But at least I’m humble enough to know that I need to do better and I can do better. And I have a great reason to be better every day in the two little girls that arrived at our house three years ago.
You have been listening to The Autistic Me Podcast. I look forward to our next meeting. I’m Christopher Scott Wyatt, speaking as The Autistic Me.
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