Autism

Raising a child is no easy task. You’re given a lot of advice from those around you, although it’s never the same. You must pick and choose what you feel is right for you and your child.

Add separation into the mix, and now that is tough!

My middle child’s father and I split just after her second birthday. It was a strained relationship from the start and should never have been, although we wouldn’t have our beautiful Amity, so it’s certainly not a regret.

Amity was always a child who drew people’s attention and had what we and those around her would call “quirks”.

Year 1 was a real wake-up call to me. I was in the office what felt like weekly regarding Amity’s behaviour, keeping in mind she was only 5. I ended up having a big meeting set up by the school towards the end of the year. The school principal, deputy, school psychologist, her teacher, and myself were all there. Talk about intimidating.

The school psychologist went to town on me. She criticised me for working and studying. “How can you have enough time for your children?” “When do you spend time with them?” The one that really got me was when she stated that Amity was “emotionally neglected”. Now that one hurt.

She continued with questions about where Amity would spend Christmas that year and how it’s not right for Amity to be away from her mother during that time. Her father hadn’t spent a Christmas with Amity for several years due to him working a FIFO roster and it not aligning, so it was only right that he had his turn, and I stood my ground on this.

I came out of this meeting an absolute mess. I started questioning my whole life and myself as a parent. I changed my working roster to only work night duties so that I could be available during the days when I was needed. My shifts were typically 2200–0700. Perfect. I was there when she woke and left for work when she went to bed. I also dropped my uni down by a unit and tried to plan my classes at times that she wouldn’t even notice me missing.

Unfortunately, my response was to completely disconnect from the school. I didn’t engage in any “chit chat” with teachers or offer anything other than closed-ended answers to questions I was asked.

I had made friends with Amity’s classmates’ parents. It’s easy to do when you see the same people a lot over several years. We would have the occasional BBQ and get-together, although after a while they started to drift away due to Amity’s behaviours getting increasingly worse. This was in the form of physical altercations and lack of social boundaries.

I knew what she was doing was wrong, and we had debriefs about behaviours and how to control our emotions nightly, although after years of hearing how my daughter was always the issue, I just got sick of it, so I slowly told the parents to just stop. I am trying my best, and if it happens at school, it’s out of my hands.

This wasn’t received well at all.

I lost those friends, and so did Amity. They didn’t deserve me and my daughter anyway, although it still hurt nonetheless.

Now I stopped going to the school at all. I just couldn’t be bothered with the judging and blaming rather than the understanding and support that I needed.

Amity’s father has been at me for years about stricter parenting and how Amity “rules the roost” as he likes to say, although for me, I just don’t see it like that. This stuff always happens when I’m not around and not under my roof. A classic example is while she is at school.

It was just coming from all angles — school, her father, school mums, some family members — and I had had enough. I saw the areas that we as a collective needed to work on, although I also saw the good and I could see when Amity was genuinely trying hard to make “good choices”.

Amity said to me one day, “Mum, can you please find me someone to help with my emotions?” “Absolutely!” I immediately started googling psychologists in my area who are good with children and looking at reviews and availabilities. I found one.

Amity had her sessions, and the psychologist asked me if I knew much about autism, so we chatted about that, and her advice was to get an assessment. At age 9, an assessment was booked in.

I spoke with her teacher, and she told me, “I have worked with autistic children and Amity is not autistic, she just has you wrapped around her finger.” I wanted to scream.

Her father told me that there is nothing wrong with her and he wouldn’t help with the assessment at all, and that she didn’t need psychology, so he wouldn’t help with that either. “Firm parenting, that’s what we have at our home,” he advised me.

Why does everyone think I’m such a bad mum?

The assessment came back, and Amity is Level 2 on the ASD spectrum. “Fuck all of you,” I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs. I had so much emotion to let go of — anger, happiness, frustration, fear, relief — it all just piled through me on top of each other.

I had to fight everyone around me for so long, knowing Amity struggled with many things and that she needed adaptations, but it was all viewed as bad kid = bad parenting.

I went to the UK without the two older kids as a farewell to my husband’s grandmother and so she could meet our baby. We came back to an absolute mess. Amity had been given in-school suspension, which would have been suspension if I had been home, and I was given the list of incidents.

I was in contact via email with the school, so I was aware of some incidents while I was away, although there wasn’t anything I could do. When I got home was when the full force of it hit me.

Immediately, I set up a school meeting — teacher, principal, deputy, school psychologist (a different one, thank goodness). I asked them what they were going to do to start supporting my daughter in the school setting. I mean, she spends 6 hours a day at school and I’m not there to walk her through every step of it.

“We can get funding now for an EA,” the school told me.

“Okay great, how will that help Amity?” I asked.

I had lost all confidence in the school by now and knew I had made up my mind before even going into this meeting.

“Well, they won’t work with just Amity, but more of a group thing.”

“But Amity doesn’t do well in groups,” I explained with a tone of defensiveness and frustration.

They went on to explain how it would be a smaller group and how it’s hard to get EAs at the moment, along with limited funding etc. etc.

What a load of rubbish.

Homeschooling it is. I will support her and get her mental health on track, which had declined so rapidly that I was scared to check on her in the mornings.

Now to update her father — tough one.

He and I have never gotten along, so anything regarding Amity that we have the slightest disagreement on can, and usually will, blow up. Although it’s not usually immediate, it’s kind of like a volcano — it bubbles away for a while, then it all comes out with force and anger.

As expected, he was sceptical and I knew he didn’t like this idea. Too bad. I am doing all her school meetings, homework, therapies, escalations, and the main parenting. He has her 2 days every 14, and it’s usually beach trips, bike rides, that sort of thing. With that being said, she had stopped going there as she “didn’t feel comfortable anymore” in her words. Amity isn’t good with emotions and words, so no one can get much more than that out of her.

A few weeks later, “She looks normal so she can engage in normal activities and be a normal kid,” her father told me with anger and matter-of-factness. Umm… I don’t think so.

A heated discussion, some may say argument, followed and then it all came down to “I’m a bad mum”, “Amity isn’t safe” due to teenage boys being around her and “in and out of my house”. I think the full context is important here, as her brother is 14 (as of today) and he often has his friend, newly 13, come over after school and they ride their bikes to the park and hang out. This kid, mind you, has been around for 6 years and his mum and I have become good friends too, so I guess he is technically right, although it’s not like I’m running a party house for teenage boys.

It’s come down to him believing he is the better parent and wanting Amity full-time. Court is now in the near future. More bloody stress, and I’m tired — mentally and physically.

Is any of this even worth it? I fight so hard for my daughter, although am I seriously missing something here?

At her age, I feel that she has a voice that deserves to be heard, and I’m in a tough place as she understands enough, and her dad isn’t a bad dad at all. Although he does work FIFO and has two other babies, so I just struggle to see how they can do what I do for her, especially as she absolutely refuses to go.

A child of 10 can throw an impressive “tantrum”, but a child with autism is a whole new level. The escalation is intense, and there’s no physical way I could get her into a car to drive 1 hour away. Yes, 1 hour! He bought a house that far away from her knowing where she lives and goes to school, but that’s irrelevant, I guess.

Who knows what will happen in the future, but I wish parents could find some more understanding sometimes and when they see a “naughty” child, instead of criticising the parent, just think about what they could be going through. We only see small snippets of people’s lives, and we’re all trying our best.

My biggest regret in regard to my daughter is that I didn’t seek professional help sooner and action a plan that would support her sensory and emotional needs. Although I didn’t, so I am doing what I can now.

Please be kind always, you never know what someone else is going through.