To Andy, Gratitude That Can’t Tell it All

Each week when I tell our family’s stories, there are some conspicuous holes. Our blog may look like a game of “Where’s Andy?” but in our household we know the answer. My love, thank you for working long and difficult hours to support our family. Thank you for also supporting everything I want to try and do to for our children. I appreciate that you try and find ways to be involved in both their lives. Thank you for hearing each diagnosis for Tony as it came and saying that you don’t care, that he’s still your boy. So many people walk away when those types of challenges come, and I can’t even begin to say how much it means to me that you have not- especially since one of his genetic disorders is like a Pandora’s box of possible secondary conditions that we may only be on the cusp of exploring.

Every week you make time to be with Tony for a few hours so that Gena and I can get together for both us and our girls to chat. I know that hasn’t been easy with the hours you work, but it has saved my sanity more times than I can count. No matter how tired you are, I love that you make the time each night to give Tony a bath and sing to him and that you watch Good Mythical Morning with Hannah. I appreciate that you support and encourage me in any goal I want to pursue for myself. That you are doing so much to help around the house right now so that I can finish my schoolwork on time. And thank you for agreeing to write a future guest post on how our experiences have impacted you as a father 😉

Thank you for being gentle and understanding. I remember that time early in our marriage when you were printing something and the sound woke me up in a panic ready to defend myself from the serrated shadows of the past. And you just held me without dropping judgments or words of bitter shame. With that moment, and in so many others, it has meant the world to me that you never thought of me as damaged when you saw my scars. Thank you for respecting me, loving me, and being such a caring father for our children.

Some Reading To Consider

Asperger’s Children, The Origins of Autism in Nazi Vienna by Edith Sheffer

“When we invoke the Autism label, it should be with full knowledge of its origins and implications.” – Edith Sheffer, page 248.

The premise of this book is that those origins can only be rightfully understood when we examine Hans Asperger’s involvement in the euthanasia programs of the Third Reich, where his referrals resulted in the confirmed death of 44 disabled children (including those believed to be on the spectrum). The author posits that because of incomplete records the actual number is most likely higher.

A central tenet of social welfare and medical practice under that regime was that the vast majority of disabilities constituted “life unworthy of life,” (quoted text from page 31) and that only those individuals who could prove themselves productive and amenable to all social practices within the Third Reich should be given therapeutic supports. The author uses historical documents available to demonstrate that these beliefs were condoned by Asperger and that they shaped his practice and treatment proposals.

This book stands as a cautionary tale about the erosion of a society’s humanity when labels are used to negate and strip the humanity from others in our minds and actions. As I read it, I could not help but see the events from my own perspective, which believes in a Creator who has clearly sanctioned by their very presence a wide variety of differences in human beings. Beings who he loves in all their differences. And I think this is a love we all want to receive from others, regardless of how we were born different or similar to those around us. I think if you read between the lines of this book, it is quietly asking us to put ourselves in the places of a wide variety of individuals, think about what we would want if we walked in their lives, and to never be complacent about practices that would dehumanize another.