None of our kids come with a manual. I certainly didn't. When it gets quiet, and we're all at the end of ourselves, I can't help but wonder.
We push Nathan and ourselves to the ragged edge of ability. We pull. We stretch. Sometimes we tear. All for what? To help him merge with a society that will never fully accept him. To help him seem a little less odd to people who will continue to see him that way to some degree? To enable him to leverage his immense intellectual capacity only to have his social limitations prevent its use?
Are we flogging this sweet, gentle young man for nothing? I wish I knew.
In truth, I don't know of any other viable option. To leave him as he is at any given point is and always has been unconscionable. History is peppered with great minds who are now believed to have been Autistic. They are the exception, not the rule. Still, they stand as an undeniable glimmer of what could be. Only time will tell.
Hope and I still aren't on speaking terms, but I find no other option than to stay the course.