Well, you KNEW it was coming...

This will not come as a shock to anyone who is friends with me on Facebook. It probably won't come as a shock to the dozens of people I e-mailed either. So for the rest of the world, as of a week ago, I was put on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. I hit week 30 two days ago, and full term is 37 weeks...so I've got a ways to go.

I will write a little bit about what bed rest is like, in case you were wondering. First of all, my movement (standing or walking) is restricted to four hours a day. When my doctor first told me that, I was pleasantly surprised. Four hours seemed like a ridiculous amount of time. However, it has run out quickly every day, and if I even THINK about going over my four hours, contractions start up and I end up back at the hospital for a shot of Red Bull (at least that is what it feels like they're injecting me with) before I'm sent back home with stricter instructions to keep hydrated and for pity's sake to rest!

So I am still allowed to do things like shower, run MINOR errands (for me, this a trip to the library to exchange the large number of books I now have time to leave) and do very, very, very light housework. I'm actually having a hard time with the last part because now that my home LITERALLY is my world, I am finding a bunch of stuff to clean, fix, etc....which gets me in trouble physically. And I'm finding that if I DON'T take care of it while Chris is gone, my attitude towards him when he gets home is pretty negative, especially when I start listing off all the things that I have come up with.

What has struck me over the past few days is how OUT of control this whole situation is. I mean, I can rest, hydrate, take my meds...but this baby still tries to be born. And ultimately it is out of my control. When I first found out that I was pregnant, I rejoiced in the fact that I could make sure that I did EVERYTHING right. I made sure that I was taking all the vitamins that I was supposed to take, that I was eating the things I was supposed to eat (or rather, not eating the things I wasn't supposed to eat), that I was doing nothing that would make me look back on this pregnancy and wonder if there was something else I could have done to ensure that this child would....well, frankly....be NORMAL.

Because I am still, on rare occasions, plagued by a sense of guilt that my boys' autism was something that I inflicted upon them by just not being careful enough, watching enough, talking enough, not following the rules enough in pregnancy... And while I don't believe that about ANY OTHER PARENT, Satan still places it on my heart and mind with my own.

So in a way, this bed rest has been a big reminder from my one true God, the Creator of all, that I never was in control of the design of my children, that they are WONDERFULLY made, and that He is the ultimate mapmaker for their lives. I can plan whatever I want to, but ultimately His plan for my life and the life of my children is the one I am going to live out. And knowing that He is faithful, loving, a help in time of need, and my Ultimate provider, I will shout praise for this time of rest, and for the protection He has laid over me and my precious baby boy thus far. And what my little guy ultimately turns out like is no less than God's perfect plan...and that is beyond good enough for me.

No, I wouldn't.

As so often happens in life, I have been asked an unusual question more than one time in the same week. When this happens, I thank God for the opportunity to reflect and answer. And today, I thank God for the journey He has brought me through to my answer.

It started with a fourth grade class I had. Right after their class has me, I have my autism program class. Usually I make sure that my fourth graders leave right on time so that my autism class doesn't have to wait in the hallway for very long. This particular day, I had lost track of time and asked that my fourth graders line up as quickly and quietly as possible so that my next class did not have to wait much longer.

The sounds coming from the hallway at this point are typical of my autism class. You could hear shrieks, "EEE--eeeeee!", scrapes against the wall, all normal for this class for whom the idea of "waiting quietly in hallway" was a laughable thought. At this, one of my fourth graders said, "Oh, is that the....I don't want to be rude....is that the..."

I helped them out by saying, "That's my kids with autism class. Although not all of the kids with autism in our school are in that class."

For some reason I felt compelled to add "If my sons were at this school, they would probably be in that class. They both have autism."

One of my other students, who I'm sure was trying to be sympathetic, immediately chimed in, "Oh, that's sad....."

I took in what she said, and the sad expressions of her fellow classmates, and said "You know, it's actually not too sad. I love my boys. They don't know how to be hurtful towards other kids. They don't know how to lie. They are very loving towards each other...I wouldn't change them even if I could. The kids out in the hallway have very beautiful sides to their personalities."

With that, I dismissed them, and they very quietly got in line and I opened the door. As we passed by my next class, I could see my fourth grade students trying very hard to smile at them, even though catching my autism classes' eyes is sometimes an impossible task. For that moment, I was very proud of my fourth graders, and very glad to be having my autism class next. No, I wouldn't change them.

I've been asked this week (again) what the chances of this next son (due at Christmas) having autism are. With his brothers both having it, the most recent study has given him a 1 in 3 chance of developing autism. The natural followup for this stat is "Does that scare you? What are you going to do if he has autism?"

When I take the time to reflect, I see my boys as they are and see (gratefully) that they are beautiful, extraordinary little boys who have blessed my life beyond measure. I think I take each milestone they reach with more gratitude and pride than I would if there was complete certainty that they would indeed reach them.

I think about Andrew's huge capacity for compassion and empathy, and see how saddened he is by the hurts of others, and know that in watching him live I have become more compassionate and empathetic.

I see Jeffrey's big brown eyes light up as they watch a new discovery, or twinkle as he laughs hysterically at a goofy scene, and I know that in watching him I am rediscovering what it means to enjoy the new adventures in life.

I see my daughter taking on her role as a big sister to these two special boys in a selfless and understanding way and know that it would probably not be to this extreme if her brothers were both "normal."

And I see my husband, who is so wonderful with my boys and helping them in the midst of meltdowns and struggles, and praise God that he is here to help me on this journey.

So the self-reflective question that comes as I daily face the diagnosis that has been laid at my door in my children twice so far..."Would I change them from having autism if I could?"

And to my surprise and delight, I am happily able to now say "No, I wouldn't."