Not every day can be full of roses and sunshine.

Had I written this post the day it happened, I probably would have regretted it.  My emotions were too high and despairing.  I cried that day and I could count on one hand the days that I've cried this year.  But I've had time to mull things over and like my personality is wont to do, things don't look so dire and hope springs up again.  So here goes my documentation of what life is like during a really rough patch in Josh's development.

You probably don't remember, but I once compared 'typical' and ASD development with two types of graphs.  Right now we're in a valley.  I'm not sure what dumped us off our mountain high.  I was expecting this sort of thing in September when baby comes and Josh starts a new school routine.  When it hit out of the blue in August it threw me for a loop and has made me very apprehensive on how it will probably get worse when his routines and normalcy go to pot next month.

Josh has become very aggressive.  He hits, throws, yells and spits.  He slams Ben around and yanks him around by his little arms.  He has left bruises.  Time outs, taking away privileges and all the normal discipline tactics don't work when he gets into a mood.  Luckily this behavior has been limited to our home and my parents' home, but on the flip side because Josh never exhibited this behavior in school, there wasn't a way for his teachers to really help me find a way to work with it.

Last week was particulary rough.  Josh has good days and bad days without much rhyme or reason to help me figure out what is coming down the path.  We had been having a really good morning until Josh just exploded.  Most of his meltdowns are about things not going his way.  It has turned into a "my way or the highway" mentality for him and if something or someone doesn't do exactly what he wants when he wants it, cue the screaming, hitting, throwing and spitting.  The one who bears the brunt of this anger is Ben.  Josh cannot comprehend that Ben has his own ideas and agenda.  It infuriates him when Ben won't come when he calls, or pulls down his tower, or play with something in the exact manner than Josh sees fit.  Josh will run after Ben, catch him and drag him back by his arm and then hit him if he doesn't comply.  So of course I have to be 'on' all the time to mediate and protect Ben.  He's a tough little guy, but his 25lbs and skinny arms don't stand much of a chance against Josh's 43lb heft.

It was one of these 'Ben isn't doing what I want' moments that started a meltdown of nuclear proportions.  As I explained for the thousandth time that Ben has his own ideas, Josh screamed at me tried to hit us both.  A time out infuriated him further.  I kept calm, knowing that loosing my own temper would only add gasoline to the fire.  Then Josh launched himself at Ben, slamming him into the stairs and pounding on his back with all the force in his surprisingly strong arms.  I shoved Josh off of him and, starting to see red, picked up my screaming Ben and carried him up the stairs and shut ourselves in my bedroom.  I locked Josh out.

Then things really started going downhill.  He was like a child possessed when he realized I had locked him out.  He launched himself against the door repeatedly.  I could hear as each body part slammed into the wood; head, feet, hands and shoulder.  Then I heard the ominous sound of splintering wood.  I got down and sat on the floor against the door so there was something to stop the force of the blows.  During all this Josh was screaming at the top of his lungs "Mommy Help!"  I mentally checked to see if I had already closed up all the windows for the day, terrified that someone walking by would call the police on us if they could hear him.

It was at this point that I started crying.  Josh was slamming the door into my back and the baby was kicking me fiercely from the inside.  How was I going to handle three kids?  I started praying out loud, my words appropriately repeating my son's appeal of "Help me please."  I asked for Josh to be cured from his autism.  Is it so much to ask that he be able to understand me?  Other people get miraculous cures from physical ailments, so why couldn't my little boy be fixed for whatever wiring isn't normal in his brain?  What if Josh will always be like this?

And then I realized that not many people get miraculous cures.  Instead of praying that Josh can understand me, I should be praying that I can be understanding of him.  There was no overwhelming feelings of comfort, or assurances that all would be well.  I changed my prayer to ask for patience and understanding, for calmness of soul when there was so much chaos around me.  For the strength to make it through the day.  And I was granted this wish.  Josh calmed down and we spent the next ten minutes curled up in bed together while I hugged him tight and stroked his head.

As I thought about that afternoon over the next few days, ideas kept popping into my head that made things look hopeful.  I was reminded of other bad times Josh has gone through and how we always came out better than before on the other side.  Since this change in behavior was rather sudden, perhaps it can be attributed to a painful growth spurt or some other physical ailment that he can't articulate to us.  He's been waking up a lot at night, so that most likely has something to do with his behavior issues.

We're still having Jekyll and Hyde moments around here, but we're working through them.  I'm still worried about his behavior getting even worse when baby arrives, but Josh surprised me with how good he was when Ben was born, so maybe that will be the case again.  I'm grateful that I can feel hope, even when the future is uncertain.  And thus continues our journey through Autism.