I Will Not Dull Her Shine

“Baby girl, let’s stay out of people’s way, please!”

The waiting room for her Occupational Therapist was too small for my Autistic toddler. She didn’t want to sit still, what toddler does? Add several days of overstimulation and routine disruption, and us arriving far too early…she wasn’t sitting still.

Don’t get me wrong, I was keeping her from running into people, monitoring expressions and body cues of anyone she tried to make friends with, and physically guiding her if she didn’t respond to verbal requests. She wasn’t misbehaving, just being energetic and social. No one seemed to mind; everyone interacted back.

Well, almost no one.

She showed up as most of the other patients were being called back. She kept glancing at my toddler while doing some paperwork. I didn’t think anything of it - I’d have glanced too.

It didn’t take long for J to spot her. She doesn’t know a stranger, and decided this woman would be her friend.

“Hi! What’s your name!” Her voice was excited, with little giggles escaping.

“I don’t have a name.”

“Yes, you do. Everyone has a name!”

The woman didn’t look too pleased at that. Strike one.

“What’s the kitties’ names?” J continued as if she wasn’t just glared at, pointing to the kitties on the woman’s sweatshirt.

Silence. Strike two.

I stepped in, recognizing this woman wasn’t very sociable with J. “They might not have names, sweetie. They’re decorations, not real kitties. Let’s come over here, you want Muffin?” I offered her the toy dog from Bluey.

She didn't get the hint and climbed into the chair next to the woman. “Can you get Ms. L?”

“Hunny, she doesn’t work here. Ms. L will come out when it’s time to get you.”

“I want to swing!”

“Aren’t you shrill!” The woman exclaimed, pretending to flinch. I realized that she’d been doing that every time J spoke. Strike three, you're out.

“She’s speaking like she normally does. This isn’t shrill. J, come over here, please.”

“Does she get spanked?”

The question caught me off guard. Who asks that? “No, and you will not touch my child.” I picked her up and physically moved her to another seat, no longer trusting her physical safety around this woman. Of course, J didn't understand why I was taking her from her new friend. She let out a screech only toddlers can muster, then ran back. I responded by moving J back to the chair. “She isn’t feeling good, J, so you need to leave her alone.”

“She wouldn’t misbehave if you spanked her.”

“She’s not misbehaving, she’s being an overstimulated Autistic toddler. I am not debating this with you.”

“Well, I spanked my girls, and they turned out fine!”

I wanted to shoot back how I laughed when I was spanked, then “acted out” worse, because I wasn’t misbehaving, I just wasn’t having my needs met. I wanted to snap about how I wasn’t going to force my child into trauma-inflicted silence to appease an old biddy we don’t know, or anyone for that matter. I wanted to give her the cold, hard facts about how children who are scared into submission grow up less likely to speak up for themselves and their loved ones, more likely to enter an abusive relationship or become the abuser, because they were taught that being hit was okay if they "misbehaved." I wanted to ask if I should assault her, since she was starting drama for no damn reason and therefore “misbehaving.”

But I didn’t.

“I’m not debating this with you. This is my child, I know what works and what doesn’t work with her, and I will never hit her. Please drop it.”

“Yeah, well, the problem with society today is that anyone can have children.”

I didn’t respond further. If looks could kill, though, she’d have been lower than Hell.

She didn’t know what I went through to even have J. The years of trying, the miscarriages, the disappointment with every negative test, the countless nights crying. She didn’t know what I went through during my pregnancy with J, how my health was torn to shreds, how I nearly died. She didn’t know how hard I fight now to give my toddler the best life I possibly can, to address the medical issues that keep popping up and won’t go away, to keep her happy and socialized when we are in and out of doctors, to stimulate that mind that’s growing so much faster than her body. But frankly, her lack of knowledge didn’t matter.

No, what’s wrong with the world isn’t that “anyone can have children.” What’s wrong with the world is that too many forget children are people, not projects to control.

My daughter is curious, vibrant, and wonderfully herself. The world may not always understand her, but that’s their limitation, not hers.

I will not dull J's shine. Ever.