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."