THE CHASE

It began like any other summer day fiasco...with my delusion that I could handle four kids at a place like the beach with no husband. After all, I was going with two girl friends who know my children well and there would be three pair of eyes keeping track of my little free spirits.


Then my friends got the idea of walking up to a nearby restaurant to purchase salt water taffy from the gift shop. I was sure I'd be fine for a few minutes just me and my four kids. My friends were not out of sight three seconds when I had the (three seconds too late) thought to take stock of my brood. Anne? In my arms. Cameron? Check. Ewan? Check. Heather? Heather? Heather? No where to be seen. Panic. Terror. Did she go with my friends? Am I missing her behind an umbrella or sand castle? Just then as I was looking around, a family approached me and asked if I was looking for a little girl in a blue Old Navy swim suit. Yes! That's her!

They informed me that she was way, way down the beach near an almost imperceptible American Flag. So there I was with the baby and the boys and my WAY out of shape body needing to run way down the beach to rescue my daughter. I yelled at Cameron and Ewan "Come on! We have to go NOW! Heather is far, far down the beach and we have to go get her!" The boys took off ahead of me. Several times I tried to tell them to slow down and run WITH me (if you could call it running!) but Cameron is not the best at following instructions and Ewan is usually following Cameron. With loud crashing waves and strong winds they were beyond hearing distance only 20 or so yards ahead of me. I was moving as fast as I could in the sand carrying my 20-something lb. baby girl. I could see the fiasco part about to happen before it actually did...Cameron ran down on the shore side of the beach by the water and Heather was up by the rocks.

When we finally caught up with Heather, Cameron could not see her and was out of ear shot to hear me calling him. He just kept running. Now I had a hysterical three year old who had been lost, an exhausted four year old who was terrified he would never see his brother again, an oblivious baby who was just along for the ride (and arms that were turning to jelly from carrying her) and Cameron was running as fast as his seven year old legs could carry him down the beach to rescue the already rescued sister. What was I to do? What on earth could I possibly do? I had to run after him with all the little ones in tow. We chased him down the beach frantically calling after him for over two miles. Yes. Two Miles. It was the most frustrating two miles of my life. My little ones were hysterically crying, following behind me as I screamed at them to hurry up. He just kept running. There was no earthy way for me to catch him. I was loosing him and abusing them and It was then that it occurred to me that this was my life...Chasing Cameron, trying to save him and dragging my other children along because I have no choice.

You see, three years and two months ago Cameron was diagnosed with an Autism Spectrum Disorder. He is a bright, imaginative little boy who is significantly socially and emotionally delayed and suffers from sometimes debilitating anxiety and frustration with just about anything that doesn't go the way he thinks it should go. At seventy lbs. he can throw a tantrum to put most two-year-olds to shame. When things are at their worst, he is in an almost constant "fight or flight" mode. These days he lives in a world that revolves around building, buying, researching and playing with Legos. He has lists and lists he has written of hopeful future Lego purchases or Lego presents and has even started drawing out plans for ideas of Lego sets to send to the Lego company. In short, he is a lot of work. It's not that my other kids don't have their own special needs as well: Ewan has some developmental delays and Heather and Anne both have some health problems they have had since birth. It's just that Cameron's special needs are a full time job, and when Cameron's needs aren't met, our family cannot function. Period.

I cannot begin to put into words the degree to which I love this little boy. He is my first born. I really hate it when people say things like "I could never do what you do" or "it must be really hard being you." Cameron is the one who truly suffers. A Developmental Pediatrician described it to us recently that neurologically, it is like Cameron has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because he experiences so much of the world around him as traumatic. But the thing is, I love each of my children, and I cannot bear the thought of hurting them, or neglecting their needs in my desperate chase down the beach that is our life!

So what do I do? How do I reach him? How can I CATCH him with out neglecting the three other precious, precious children? I am finding new answers to this question every day, but the key (I am learning) is God. I cannot do it alone. I have to pray like I prayed when I was running on the beach..."Give me strength, Father. Make my legs strong enough, make my voice loud enough. Guide me to who can help us!" I have to do what I finally did on that beach. I found a life guard who jumped in a truck and drove ahead to bring him back to me. I needed help. Every day I need God's help. What I cannot do alone, God can make up the difference and lead us to the paths that we need to follow. He is my partner in Chasing Cameron.