It’s 6:30 AM Christmas morning and I have been awake for over three hours. No, I’m not waiting for Santa, or busy wrapping gifts. I am lying in bed wishing I was busy wrapping gifts, or that I had a reason to be excited for Christmas.

Holidays are not usually the best of times in an autism home. The break in routine, the lack of therapy, and the family visits can be a bit challenging. And in our case, add the sharing of pink eye throughout the house to make the holiday just a bit more cozy.

My 4-year-old autistic son, who struggles with sleep issues, is snoring away, of course. I’m sitting here thinking about how I was when I was his age on Christmas morning. I couldn’t sleep because I wanted to hear Santa on the roof, and I wanted to catch him in the act coming down our chimney. I remember leaving cookies and milk so he could be refreshed. I couldn’t wait to go into our living room and see the couch full of wrapped gifts–everything I wanted.
I also remember Christmas morning 4 years ago. I was holding my baby in my arms and I couldn’t wait till he was a little older and he could have those excited feelings too, and we could lavish him with everything he wanted.

Well, that day is here, and it is nothing like that. My son didn’t ask for anything for Christmas because he can’t talk. What’s worse, he has no idea it is even Christmas. He could absolutely care less that he has 10 wrapped gifts waiting to be opened. And to top it off, he won’t even open them. He would be much happier playing with the paper they are wrapped in–throwing it around in the air, or putting it in his mouth and chewing on it. The only thing that will make him happy this Christmas day is the popsicle stash in the freezer.

Facebook and Twitter has not helped the “Holly Jolly Christmas” spirit this week. It’s just a big fat reminder of how different my world is from everyone else’s. All of the birthday and christmas parties we were never invited to……..all of the school concerts that my child will never sing in…….the christmas trees that we will never have up because my son will tear it down or eat the ornaments…….the family portraits that we will never have because my child can’t sit long or look at the camera…….the christmas feasts my child will never eat………the messages from friends asking me what Keegan wants for Christmas when I just wish they would understand that as sweet as they are, Keegan is not able to wish for anything……..I really could go on and on, but then someone might 1013 me for a psychiatric evaluation.

When I took Keegan to the doctor the other day for his pink eye, the doctor was asking me questions as though I was just starting on this journey. “Is he getting floor-time therapy? Have you read the article about the autistic boy and Siri? Is he getting assistance in school?” And, of course, the answer was “yes” to everything. Then he said, “You just have to find that key to open him up.” I told him, “we have been looking for that key, and trying every spare key we could find for over 2 years. I know he is so delayed and so hidden in his autistic world, but it is not for lack of trying, Dr.”

I realize there’s only one thing I want this Christmas, and that’s why I have been tossing and turning since 3:00 AM. I wish Santa would slide down my chimney and bring me that key.