In which we try, try again

Sometimes, despite all planning to the contrary, despite weeks of social stories and preparation, it all goes south. We were fine until boarding, more or less. After all, Isaac has flown what? Ten round-trips to New York? A few to LA? The kid has logged more miles in his five years than a lot of adults I know. Maybe it was the alarm that went off in security. Or the fact that we denied him an elevator ride at Gate A1 in favor of the one closer to our departure gate. Or maybe it was the sight of the crowd, jostling into a cold and noisy jetway.

I don't know. Idon'tknowIdon'tknowIdon'tknowIdon'tknow.

The flight crew and security staff were wonderful. After stories like this and this and this I've come to prepare myself for callousness, even outright hostility from the real world, and the real world obliges with its usual motley assortment of responses: sweet, self-righteous, ignorant, outright weird.

It was maybe twenty minutes total. Isaac screamed and cried on the jetway, so much so that a few members of the flight crew came out to see if they could help. Given the fact that the plane was entirely boarded by that point, given everything, really, they were unfailingly polite and helpful. And I should say: not in a "oooh this-is-inconvenient-but-we-had-mandatory-sensitivity-training-after-that-CNN-story-so we'll-smile-a-lot-until-these-horrible-people-go-away" kind of way, but in a crisp, unobtrusive, human way. I was very, very grateful for that. however it came about.

Finally they had to close the plane, and J., Isaac and I went back to the gate to see if we could board a later flight. "Are you scared?" he asked me later that night. "Yeah of course," I said. But I wasn't ready to talk about what it could mean. Not yet, anyway.

We spent eight hours in the airport Saturday (no more seats to be had), and another four or so on Sunday, waiting for our delayed second flight. Isaac was generally calm, but at the final moment he balked.

I had told J. that if this happened again, he should just go, and I would take our boy home. Reluctantly, he handed me Isaac's jacket and boarding pass and boarded the plane alone.

I spent another ten minutes trying to convince Isaac to get on the plane with me. We got as far as the jetway, but by this point he was completely hysterical.

"It's too much!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. "It's too much noise! I want to go home!"

Suddenly I couldn't do it anymore. As much as our family trips mean to me, to all of us, I just couldn't. And in the back of my mind, I thought wow. Nice asking.

We walked silently back through the terminal, hand in hand, through the rain to the shuttle bus, into the car, and drove home to the sound of the wind and the wipers. When we got home, I made him dinner, drew him a bath, got him ready for bed, and lay down next to him as he, and then I, dropped off to sleep.

We awoke this morning to the first wisps of silver light peeking through the window shades. ""It's still pretty dark," he observed, hopping out of bed in search of milk.

We're going to have to look into this anxiety. It worries me terribly that he lives with such intense fears, and I only hope that it's a phase rather than a hint at something darker to come. But maybe this is an unexpected gift as well: ten days together, just the two of us. Time to go to the playground, bake cookies, see some friends. Time to reconnect and to rest.

This autism thing. It gives you whiplash, doesn't it?

Comments

[Niksmom]

Whiplash; that's a great way to describe it. Even though I knew what happened, I still cried reading this. Sadness that your family is separate during the holidays, admiration for the way you and J handled it, but mostly heartache for Isaac and his valiant, valiant efforts at conquering his fears and asking for what he truly needed. He is not a "small man" at all. Rather. A giant heart in a little boy's body.

Sending you love and wishes for a peaceful time together. xoxo

[drama mama]

Nice asking indeed.

I give you major props for listening, for trying, for getting out when the getting was good...

and my heart aches for both you and J.

It gets better. Promise.

[beata]

I am so so sorry..but does it mean I could possibly see Isaac? pretty please

[TC]

Delurking to say...Please please pleasepleaseplease make sure you're giving yourself the enormous kudos you deserve for handling this all with such aplomb. I was reading this and imagining myself in the same situation--remembering myself in similar situations--and just knew that I would have freaked out, made things worse. I've done it before. I did it on Sunday, in fact, in a lesser-scale-but-no-less-traumatic situation, for which I am still kicking myself.

I am so impressed with you. I hope you are impressed with both yourself and J. And, for his ability to know what he could and couldn't handle, with Isaac, too.

[kristen]

I cried too. For your family, for you, for J, for Isaac. But yes, a gift, this time with your sweet son. A chance to ease his mind, be in the moment, connect. You are an amazing mom, Susan. Isaac is so lucky to have you in his corner--never faltering, never judging, never once backing down.

Merry Christmas, my friend.

[Maddy]

Indeed! [the whiplash!] the three hour check in for international flights doesn't help either plus the lure of escalators. My youngest spent those three hours [more or less] screaming 'plane fall down' which must have been great solace for other nervous passengers.

It also took quite a while to remove his fingers held vice like on the door frame of the plane on entry......I feel exhausted just thinking about it!
Best wishes

[Stimey]

Yes. Whiplash.

I have been thinking about you in the past couple of days. You are a good mom. You looked at the best interests of your child and followed his direction.

Hugs to you. I know you probably need them. :)

[Melissa P.]

Many, many children with autism cannot and will not fly. For many issues, noise, too amny people, sensory overload, claustrophobic.
Neither of mine will still.
Glad you were able to take some trips before this began.

[HKW]

I found your story very moving. I have been enjoying your blog for some time. Your son reminds me a lot of my older son, who is in 1st grade, and some of what you have been going through is similar to what we have gone through.

It sounds like you did a fantastic job handling a very tough situation all around. And kudos to you for finding a silver lining. But I wanted to relay a story that the first ABA person who worked with our son told me. She was traveling with her 3 year-old daughter, who does not have autism, and because of the stress of traveling, the girl had a HUGE meltdown of epic proportions on the ramp to the airplane, and then again in the waiting area. She was screaming, kicking, sobbing, rolling on the floor, etc, I think ultimately for an hour. As my friend was doing her best to figure out what to do, this well-intentioned woman came up to her to voice kind words, and then said, "have you ever heard of a specialist called a behavioralist? They can really help with these kinds of challenges." To which my friend said, "Yes, I am one!" I liked this story because it reminded me that while autism poses specific challenges, lots of kids, even those not on the spectrum, can do very similar things, and even so-called experts are just as powerless to prevent it or make it all better.

As for airplanes and traveling, I did want to share a few things we've tried over the years, in case it can help for the future. First, on one of my plane trips years ago for work, I took a lot of digital pictures of the whole process (especially the bathrooms!) so that we could make a book and talk a lot about it. I also completely bribe my kids with special gifts on the plane (watching a new DVD, etc). It doesn't always work, and probably would not have worked in your situation, but it could help. Also, the Hiller Aviation Museum in San Carlos has part of a 747 that you can go in and sit down on the seats, and is also a fun place for kids.

The other comment I wanted to share (sorry for the long post, but I've been thinking a lot about your post), is that for my son with autism, his biggest challenges have shifted unexpectedly over time, also leading to some whiplash. But, the plus side of that is that there are some things that I can NEVER imagine doing with him successfully, and in 3 months, 6 months or a year, whatever anxiety he feels about that particular thing or situation is just gone, with no apparent explanation. Perhaps that will happen for your son with this challenge.

Thank you so much for your blog. I really enjoy reading it and admire you tremendously.

[jennifergg]

Late to this, but I wanted to say: you are awesome.

xo