MY PROBLEM.

This year, my family welcomed a baby girl. My father was the only one of five siblings to not have a daughter (his first sister had two, his brother one, his second sister three and his third sister two) and my maternal grandmother had hoped for a son and a granddaughter, instead she had a daughter and two grandsons (my mother was an only child).

My nephew, even at age two, knew more about expecting a child than I did at age three, when my brother was born. My memories were of following my mother down the hallway asking her if she was going to be sick again and being told to go away and she she was. And then, being taken to my maternal grandparents’ place, where I stayed for a week while my Dad went to work. I remember seeing my brother with my grandparents and a visit one night to see my mother in hospital and then the drive home, where I saw powerlines in the rear view mirror as I sat in the back seat of the car.

My niece has a non-life-threatening condition and my folks say, “Whatever it takes to make her right.” Now, if I was healthier, and she had leukaemia, and needed a bone marrow transplant, and I was a perfect match, of course I would endure the pain of a drill going into my hip to extract some to give her a chance. She doesn’t have that.

I haven’t got any children of my own, and as I’m closer to fifty than I am thirty, I know I’ve left my run too late. I don’t have any regrets, however. I was hopeful that either my niece or nephew would be autistic. Okay, my nephew is very clever, at two, and knows what he wants. He may yet be hyperlexic. I remember, when I was two, three, four, having my mother read to me and if she missed out a word, I would say, “No, it’s this.” Similarly, when I was two, my family went on a holiday to Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney, and would tell me the towns we passed through. If they got them wrong, I’d say, “No, we went to that one, then that one.” My grandfather taught me a little before I went to school. And I remember my teacher telling my mother to do things her way not my grandfather’s way.

I didn’t hope for an autistic nephew because I wanted them to be bullied, like I was. What I wanted was to have a niece or nephew with whom I shared the same neurology.

My problem is, as much as I want the best for my niece, there’s one thing that I want for her most of all. Acceptance. I want her to be accepted and valued as a girl. I want her to be accepted for who she is. I don’t want her to be viewed as a broken version of a complete person.

Only today, I was talking to an old school friend (female) and I mentioned my mental health concerns. My mother adds to them by saying that she thought it would be wonderful if there was a cure. Well, no, it wouldn’t. What would be wonderful would be for autistic people to be accepted. My niece has hip dysplasia, and I was thinking, “Well, if that was connected to EDS, and she was diagnosed as autistic, I would say, “I want my niece to be accepted as she is. She’s NOT a broken neurotypical, she’s a complete autistic.””

My brother and sister-in-law would still love my niece if she was autistic, but my problem is, I want the best for my niece, but I want the best for her for who she is. I don’t want her to be in pain. But I do want her to be loved and accepted for who she is. I don’t want my family to think that I want less for my niece, but what I do want is for my niece to be respected for who she is and for her to have the right to decide what she wants for herself. And I think I can’t really ask for better than that.