Five years ago...

Five years ago to today, we rolled into Cary, North Carolina in our car, affectionately named Big Red, hauling all of our belongings behind us. Literally. A few hours later we were finished signing papers and moving into our “new” house.

Our return to Cary was bittersweet. It was a new beginning yet so much was unknown. We were returning after having lived in England for three years. We had lived in Cary prior to living in England, but it was only for two brief years. And we had no family in Cary or anywhere in North Carolina, or the southeast for that matter.

So why did we return to Cary? Well, that’s the story I’m reflecting on today.


A few months before our return to the States we received a long awaited diagnosis for our son, Sam, who was 11 at the time. High functioning Autism, aka Asperger’s Syndrome. This diagnosis was not a surprise to us, as we had spent years trying to comprehend Sam and help him understand himself. Asperger’s had been a word out there for a few years, but it seemed that everyone wanted to rule out everything else first. In that process we worked through many of his sensory issues, general anxiety and social withdrawal. But when intense anxiety struck his mind a few months before his diagnosis, it turned our family life upside down. Months of sleepless nights for him, and subsequently us, pushed us to the point of realizing that we were not managing his issues well. We were at the end of our rope. We knew it was time to seek answers and get support. So we flew back to North Carolina to UNC Chapel Hill to seek answers, and got the diagnosis.


On the flight back to England, I consumed an entire book on Asperger’s, treatment, challenges, etc. I literally read the entire flight. And Sam read the newly released Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince for the entire flight – cover to cover. And then he started again. I don’t remember if Dave was reading or sleeping. :-)


We came away from Chapel Hill and reading books knowing that we had a choice. We could help Sam now in his pre-teen years with cognitive behavioral therapy and self awareness, and give him every chance to flourish into an independent adult who can live a full life and contribute significantly to society. Or we could ignore his challenges and let him get by in school and allow him to continue withdrawing socially.


And so our return to Cary was in pursuit of the best opportunities for Sam. We returned to a doctor who had known Sam since he was seven, and knew our family well. She was a huge part of helping us and Sam navigate the ebb and flow of anxieties, middle school, self-awareness, parenting Asperger’s, family dynamics and more.


Fast Forward to October 2010.

Sam, in his appearance in A Midsummer Night's Dream at his school, wrote a biographical poem for the playbill. Here it is:

Sam Loomis (Thisbe/Flute)

My name is Sam and I am playing Flute
I’m always doing math and finding roots
I’m in eleventh grade, 16 years old
Got Asperger’s and allergies to mold
As you can see, I write much poetry
Pentameter or writing verses free
I’d like to thank my friends and family
My teachers who have taught me selflessly
My God, who is the maker of all things
For the support and kindness you guys bring.
That’s all for now, I hope I’ve paid my dues
This poem ends – Adieu! Adieu! Adieu!

The first time I saw this poem was on opening night. I was shocked – the word Asperger’s jumped off the page and I wondered if Sam knew what he had done. As far as I knew, this was the first “public” outing of his diagnosis. Yes, his teachers know, but wow. To put that in print in front of your peers is a big thing.


Yet each night of the production, someone would approach me and ask if Sam was my son. Always, they commented on how well Sam did and how they would never know that he has Asperger’s. The most touching conversation was on the final night. A mom approached me as we waited for the actors to come out after the production. She started making small talk and eventually just came out and said “my son has Asperger’s.” I heard a twinge of despair in her voice and so I asked how old he was. “Eleven,” she answered. Wow. Rewind to five years ago in my life and I’m pretty sure I know how she feels. We talked for a bit and at the end of our conversation she said “Sam gives me hope.”


So that’s what I’m reflecting on today…