Oddly enough, it's in Riley's bed where these two fellows meet the most. Parents of young children - no matter their backgrounds, differences or varying interests - will always find conversation on the topic of How Their Children Sleep At Night. Until you're a parent, you just don't understand how consuming this issue is. Every night, as we slink between the sheets, defeated with exhaustion, we start naming the odds. What are the chances I'm going to be up on my feet, hanging over the side of the crib, in less than two hours? Is it more likely Riley will wake-up at 3:30 a.m. and cry uncontrollably or make it through until 5 a.m.? It's a crapshoot because, all things are really equal. He's done it all - every perfect, sleep through the night scenario we hoped for to the most horrible nights possible, where you're left wondering, coffee in-hand, slumped at your desk the next morning, if you, in fact, slept at all. You just don't know. You have hope. You fear the worst. He's progressed so far ... but he always digresses back. Because he's a baby, and his job is apparently to just keep us guessing.
Hell, everything about this whole child-rearing thing is a gamble. You would think, as second-time parents, there would be a lot less shoulder-shruggings going on. But we often look at each other, Riley red-faced, screaming and crying nearby, and say in exasperation: "I just don't know what to do." The fact is, Riley is just as much of a mystery as his brother was (and still is, actually). The difference may only be that we're a bit more relaxed about it. If we could keep one of these alive, why not two?
That isn't to say, though, that we're completely unflappable. For a while now, since before Riley started sitting up unsupported, he rocks. It's like he's got a beat, and he's gotta move. It started when he'd sit supported on our laps, but now he'll sit on the floor, mouthing one of his toys, rocking back and forth. We figured: Cute, probably a bit soothing, maybe a little of the pre-self propelled balance practice. But no biggie. Until....
Until his daycare provider started raising those damn red flags everywhere. We knew what she was hinting at when she said, with a voice that relayed no-big-deal-PROBABLY-but-I-have-some-concern: "He rocks a lot!" Um, yeah, OK. So? She has been a teacher/daycare provider for nearly 16 years, and has cared for way more kids than we have. Including kids with developmental issues, like autism. That was all it took for us to spend a couple days scouring the Internet.
Basically, what we learned is that it's impossible to diagnose autism this young. Most kids start showing signs around age 1, when they stop progressing and, in fact, start digressing. Rocking is, indeed, one sign of autism. But only one, and is only a problem when kids are much older (as our doctor also later said). The other big signs for babies include avoiding eye contact and failure to engage with others.
I look down at Riley. He looks back up, directly in my eyes. Then his eyes crinkle as he laughs and squeals. "Da da da da da," he says. I shake my head from side-to-side, he does the same, waits for me to laugh, looking directly at my eyes, then does it again. I think: "No way." Then I think: "How dare she!"
Of course she means well, and nothing could be definitive for years, but those days where it lingered in the back of my mind - the What Ifs, the second-guessing every one of my son's actions, the thoughts about "special education," fearing his prospects of viability and independence - energy better spent elsewhere.
Every parent naturally wants whats best for their child (at least, you gotta hope they do, even if they don't actually do what's best for their child). But no matter what happens with Riley, special needs or no, we can handle it. Like with everything these babies throw our way, we learn and we cope.
Whether it be a common cold or a serious disability, we'll always feel a bit helpless, wondering if we're foundering or succeeding. We only want what's best for our giggly little Riley. So right now, we're just gonna love him.
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