Three Cubed

“December 16, 1991.” Over the past twenty-seven years, I have mindlessly rattled off that date countless times in doctor’s offices and pharmacies as well as over the phone to insurance companies and special services providers. In true Jeopardy format, I could tell the significance of this date in the form of a question: “What is Alex’s birthdate?” However, the judges would also have to accept the following as correct: “What is the date I became a mom?” or “When was the most fascinating person I’ve ever met born?” or “What is the day my life forever changed for the better?” Certainly, becoming Alex’s mom has allowed me to experience life in ways I could have never expected, and for that, I will be forever grateful to God and to Alex.

If it were not for Alex, I would not appreciate the wonder of numbers. As someone who has always loved words, mathematics held no particular interest for me. However, for Alex, numbers allow him to make sense of the world: how big, how far, how tall, how expensive, how hot, how many, how long. He treasures measuring devices that give him the answers and perspectives he seeks, such as clocks, calendars, and rulers. He notices and happily announces patterns that others might miss, including when the temperature is the same as the number of minutes on the clock, when the gas prices are the same as pi, and that our phone number is a prime number. Indeed, even Alex’s new age––twenty-seven––becomes more interesting because it is a perfect cube (3 times 3 times 3). Because Alex has shared his love of numbers with me, I have realized that despite the infinite possibilities and seeming randomness of life, patterns and plans are waiting to be discovered. We only need to keep looking for them with enthusiasm, as Alex does every hour of every day.

If it were not for Alex, I wouldn’t have realized the depths of goodness in the man I married. Having the opportunity to witness the caring and patience and unconditional love Ed has developed since becoming Alex’s dad has been a gift. Since Alex usually sits between the two of us when we take him to concerts and sporting events, I often see Alex lean toward his dad in these situations to ask him a question or make a comment. With their two heads literally and figuratively together, they share a bond most father and sons would envy. The other evening, I heard Bob Dylan Christmas music coming from the basement and walked downstairs to find the two of them having a grand time, enjoying the music they love and I don’t. While being an autism dad has been challenging, Ed has stepped up and been the father Alex needed. In return, he has been rewarded with Alex’s devotion to him.

If it were not for Alex, I wouldn’t know how precious the last few minutes before falling asleep are. After we say bedtime prayers together, in which Alex asks God to bless practically everyone he’s ever met, not to delay going to sleep, but because these people have made an impression upon him, we engage in a nightly routine that is familiar and comforting. We discuss his schedule for the next day and say, “Love you” to each other. Because Alex has sensory issues that make physical affection difficult for him, the verbalizing of our love takes on greater value. Nonetheless, over time, he has become more tolerant of touch, smiling as he lifts his head off his pillow for me to kiss his forehead or cheek. I really don’t think Alex needs a bedtime kiss from me to know he’s loved, but I think he offers his sweet face to me because he knows how much it means to me.

If it were not for Alex, my faith in God would not be as strong. Not only has autism tested and developed my faith, but also being able to witness Alex’s complete trust and faith in God has provided a model of how I need to believe. When Alex was struggling mightily with anxiety, I would kneel beside his bed as he slept, praying earnestly for God to help him and comfort him in ways that I could not. When Alex is doing well and content with life, as he has been lately, I offer prayers throughout the day, thanking God for how far He has brought Alex. Despite wanting to control every aspect of Alex’s life, I have learned that God’s ways are far better than mine, and I have learned to trust and wait upon God instead of leaning on my own understanding.

Although I don’t know what the future holds for Alex and honestly worry about how autism may make his life more difficult than necessary, I do know that God has plans for him He hasn’t shared with me, probably knowing I would want to tweak them myself. Nonetheless, He has entrusted this precious child to me, and I have tried to teach him the important lessons in life. Twenty-seven years later, I burst with pride at the fine young man Alex has become and thank God for the best student and teacher I’ve ever had, as well as the most precious gift God has ever given me.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12