Metamorphosis: Blogging Against Disablism

dig·ni·ty (dĭg'nĭ-tē) n. pl. dig·ni·ties
1. The quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect.
2. Inherent nobility and worth

I have come to learn that this is what its all about. It wasn't always this way for me.
A little over 2 years ago, my oldest son was diagnosed with autism. At first, this was a tremendously wrenching event for my wife and I. Until that point, I had never come face-to-face with disability. Aside from the occasional encounter with a disabled person, I lived in a disability-free world. I was a disablist by default, without even knowing it. I had never even taken a bare moment of my life to consider disability seriously. Prior to judging me harshly for this admission, read on. It gets worse, and it also gets better.
On the drive down to Children's Hospital for the developmental evaluation recommended by our pediatrician and the speech therapist, I was accompanied by my just-turned-three year old son. On the drive home, a mere 5 hours later, the spectre of Autism was strapped in the carseat behind me; silent, brooding, thieving the child my wife and I had conceived. Around me, on the busy highways of Southern California, thousands of people were going about their business on a typical sunny day. Meanwhile, I had been given the herculean task of raising a "disabled" son.
And so began my metamorphosis. Little did I know at that time, in January of 2005, that my eyes would be opened to a world that had existed around me all my life, immediately within my grasp, but that I had not been aware of. The metamorphosis did not begin immediately. The initial shock was quickly supplanted by a predictable episode titled "OhMyGodWhatDo WeDoNow!" We filed with the state for services. We contracted with an agency for behavioral therapy. My parents immediately became involved in trying to help. We were referred to friends of family who had experience with autism. On and on it went. We were reacting to the autism, we believed that our family had the power to defeat this thing that had infiltrated our heretofore "innocent" lives. This went on for months, and I do not regret what was accomplished in terms of Jason's well-being (he is a very happy child who is thriving in so many ways) But what I did not realize was happening concurrently, and was most profound in framing all of our future endeavors regarding my autistic son, was that I was undergoing a metamorphosis. And here is the epiphany my wife and I had that led to this awareness:
My son was born possessing dignity. He possesses "the quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect". Autism did not change this. I, in my ignorance, allowed my perception of him to change in the few short moments it took for a psychologist to utter the words "diagnosis: autism". My son did not change in that moment - I did. And I will live my life regretting my brief lapse into self-pity. I momentarily robbed him of his dignity. Thank goodness I have recovered, and returned his dignity to him. Can you imagine the devastation I could have caused him had I not changed my views? He is a real person, and he deserves a father who appreciates and respects him for who he is. I grew up under the guidance of two parents who stubbornly and openly valued all I had to offer, no matter my shortcomings, and it is chilling when I realize just how close I came, however briefly, to robbing my own son of that same benefit. My metamorphosis in my views of "ability" vs. "disability" is one of the most profoundly positive things that has happened to me. And to whom do I owe the credit? To my son, Jason, who will someday understand that he has done as much to raise his father as I will ever do to raise my son.
Prologue: On Friday last, my wife and I took the boys to the local pizza place. As we were fighting the dinner table battles commonly found in a family with two young boys and an infant ("No, pepperoni is not a frisbee!" or "Sometimes lemonade is pink, please drink it anyway" or "The baby is too little to eat a meatball"), in walks a man with his wife. This man was missing both his forearms - in their place he had prosthetic limbs. What was far more noticeable about him was his booming laugh and big smile. I do not believe he knew anyone in the restaurant, yet he stopped to chat with a few people on his way to the counter. A few years ago, I would remember the limbs, not the laugh. I would have unintentionally robbed him of his dignity before he ever had a chance to say "Hello" to me.
This post is my submission to join the effort for Blogging Against Disablism Day. Thank you to all my fellow bloggers for helping to protect the dignity of my son.