I love my children... but I hate their autism.

You read that right.
I hate their autism and I have no problem saying it.
I'm not grateful for it, for making my children who they are. I dream of what they would be like without it, without all these obstacles in their way.
I'm not one of those moms that " wouldn't change it for the world  " because I would. Every day I wish I could.

I hate what it takes from us. I hate that it makes Kirsty feel like she doesn't need friends or anyone but herself most of the time.
I hate that my son at nearly 5, can't feed himself or talk. Actually forget talking... even yes, no, mom and dad would do at this stage.

It's not what people think or see on tv.
For every 1 child with autism with a savant brainpower and intellect, there's probably 20 like Logan with a severe intellectual disability and the cognitive level of a 1 year old.
For every 1 child with autism that has an SNA in a mainstream classroom, there are probably 20 like Kirsty in units and special schools, that can't read or write at 7 years old.

Sometimes I feel like the autism I deal with isn't what is portrayed in the media.  I feel hard done by. Like we have it harder somehow, as self indulgent as that sounds... and I'm aware it does. But I hate it nonetheless.
The usual " they are very intelligent though " doesn't apply here. That stereotype didn't find it's way to Mallow.  Unfortunately they aren't.
The" but they are all happy in themselves" didn't either. Kirsty, yes... but not Logan.
He isn't a happy child.  Logan has no happy medium. He is either absolutely hyper or absolutely distraught.  There's no in between. Do you have any idea how exhausting that must be? To be so out of control with your mind and body that the smallest thing can cause absolute havoc.

Today I've witnessed the worst meltdown I've ever seen with him. We had screaming, empty retching which turned to vomiting, eyes rolling in his head, not being able to catch his breath... and all while wrapping his arms around my neck and pleading with me with red raw eyes to fix whatever is wrong.
There is no worse feeling than seeing your child in agony like that, in a turmoil that you'll never understand.  One that Calpol or Neurofen won't fix.
I gave up on religion a long time ago. What kind of a God would do this to a child or a parent?

I feel sad for him and Kirsty, and for us. It's too hard sometimes.
Like I said... I hate their autism.