Most everyone who knows me knows that I’m a prayerful person. I prayed every prayer I could think of the second Ronan reached for me one morning a few weeks ago. Even while talking to him, I kept a steady stream of prayers going in my head. Dear Lord, please help him. Ease his suffering. Keep him calm. Help me know what to do next. This is so scary. When I ran from the den to the kitchen to get the thermometer, I’d also grabbed the phone and closed the curtains. Ready to call 9-1-1 if things worsened, I kept the phone next to me as I stroked Ronan’s back in the darkened room, helping lull him into a deep sleep.
Ronan slept for a long time that day. As he slept, I continued to pray…God, if this is his time to go…please, oh…I can’t believe I’m thinking this…but please take him quickly. Take his straight to Heaven where there is no suffering but only joy.
While he slept, I never left his side. Looking so peaceful, so handsome, so perfect, I thought about everything he’d gone through. That day when he’d woken up, Ronan looked exhausted, even though he’d only been awake about for about 30 – 40 minutes. Soon after breakfast, Ronan experienced what looked like loss of vision. That happened as he became unsteady on his feet. Reaching for me, then gripping my arms right before his legs wobbled, I had to think quickly on my feet.
My confidence tanked the worse his symptoms got. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?? I’ll catch you, buddy. Mommy’s got you…I told Ronan as he held onto me and I held onto him.
Before getting him safely to the couch, I kept my voice calm and guided Ronan. He has such trust in me, I reflected after blurting out more prayers. My prayers felt jumbled and all over the place, but I kept saying them. Asking intercessory prayers from every Saint I could think of, St. Ronan, St. Thomas, St. Catherine, St. Rose, St. Peter…all the saints in Heaven, pray for Ronan, PLEASE, I begged.
Prayers are often on repeat, especially when I feel helpless. Prayers are on repeat when really scary mornings turn into normal afternoon, too.
After Ronan slept, he had a typical afternoon. Perplexed still hours later, but also now incredibly grateful, I praised God for the blessing that the rest of the day brought to my son. He’s not experienced that kind of event since, but should he encounter other troubling problems, I hope and pray that I can be right there. I hope he’ll continue to reach out for me, and I pray that he’ll bounce back like he was able to last time.
I cry when I think about that first prayer I uttered. It’s a frightening though to see your child begin to slip into a different state; I’ll not wish for it again but will hope that he can always pull out of the darkness. Of all days to be thankful for that, today’s a perfect day to be thankful for being able to see the light again.
Cathy Jameson is a Contributing Editor for Age of Autism.
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In Underestimated: An Autism Miracle, Generation Rescue’s cofounder J.B. Handley and his teenage son Jamison tell the remarkable story of Jamison’s journey to find a method of communication that allowed him to show the world that he was a brilliant, wise, generous, and complex individual who had been misunderstood and underestimated by everyone in his life.
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