SHELLY HUHTANEN

Comfort in a World of Change

Regression through transition involving our kids with autism is real and parents and their siblings brace themselves on how it is going to manifest itself. It can be in ways that we've seen before or in ways that are entirely new.

It's been almost two months since we have moved and I'm amazed at how well Broden has transitioned to where we live now. I give credit to Broden being able to start therapy in a new ABA clinic. Watching how Broden has acclimated to his new surroundings reminds me how crucial it is for access to care for our kids. Each time we move, we gamble with our children's progress and frankly, it can be scary.

Each week that goes by, Mark and I sigh in relief. We look at each other and say, "We're out of the woods, right?" Regression through transition involving our kids with autism is real and parents and their siblings brace themselves on how it is going to manifest itself. It can be in ways that we've seen before or in ways that are entirely new. Our family knows this quite well.

The week before Broden was supposed to start therapy, I walked by his room to see that he had smeared poop on his wall and his sheets. I hadn't seen this behavior in about eight years. What I also noticed that was new was that he figured out pretty quickly that he wasn't going to sit around while he watched me clean the mess he created.

After he helped me clean up the mess, he pulled the sheets off the bed and I had him carry the sheets to the washer. After receiving a lesson in laundry, Mark and I told him, "You do this again, you'll clean it up again." Broden gave us a look like a typical teenager does when he knows he's been outsmarted. He turned around and marched back upstairs. Mark and I quietly gave each other high fives and nodding to each other that autism wasn't going to win that day.

The next week when clinic started, I could see a shift in Broden. He was experiencing the structure that he has had most of his life. Discreet trial is how he learns. It is what he knows. It is comfort to him. The other day, his tutor told me he had already figured out the afternoon routine for going home at the end of therapy. He knows that initials of children are called on the tutor's walkie talkies to notify them that their parent has arrived. Broden's initials had not been heard yet, but he turned to his tutor and said, "My mom is here." About two minutes later, his initials were called and he started to pack up. For him, comfort is in routine and knowing what is going to happen next. For military life, it's the little things we can count on. For him, knowing that I was going to be there waiting for him makes a difference.

Two weekends ago, we started decorating his bedroom walls. He had white letters that spell his name. These letters have been hung on his wall since he was a baby. In Texas, he used to stand on his bed, take them off the wall and chuck them across the room. We have a template that we tape to the wall to guide us

on where to hammer the nails. Once the template was up, Broden looked up and smiled. He knew what was next. After Mark and I hammered the nails, we did something we haven't done before. We told Broden to grab the letters, stand on the bed and hang them on the wall himself. He grabbed an "N", then an "O" and continued on until his name was complete. He sat back down on his bed and looked at his name on the wall, smiling.

In the end, Broden is more like us than different. We all strive for comfort and are a little bit more at ease if we have an idea of what is going to happen next. I smile a little more when I open a box in our home and pull out things that surrounded me at the last place we lived. In the military, our life is filled with so much change, it's nice when we can experience comfort through routine. For our son, maybe it's knowing that his name will be on his wall. • 

DON'T LEAVE US HANGING: Watching Broden reminds me how crucial it is for access to care for our kids. Each time we move, we gamble with our children's progress and frankly, it can be scary.

PUZZLES & CAMO Shelly Huhtanen is an Army wife stationed at Fort Benning, GA who has a child with autism. She enjoys sharing her experiences of day-to-day life caring for her son with autism while serving as an Army spouse. She authored "Giving a Voice to the Silent Many" that encompasses many stories of raising a child with autism in the military. Shelly is passionate about autism advocacy for our military and works to bring awareness to our local legislators and command about providing better support for our military autism community, such as better health care and education.