Twelve years today I sat waiting for the engineer to arrive to fix my microwave. One day past my due date, I could not imagine being without my microwave when the baby arrived. In fact, I could not imagine how anything might happen; I'd never had a baby before. Those were the beautiful days before the word miscarriage ever entered my mind let alone passed my lips. It was an exciting time of anticipation.
The microwave man arrived on time, fixed the problem and advised me that the door release was a little stiff and if I had a little oil, he'd gladly sort it out for me. So, twelve years today, I popped down to the garage, located the small tin of 3 in 1 and, not wanting to leave an unknown man in the house alone for too long, hastily jogged back up the steps towards the house.Unfortunately, the steps being uneven, I got a much closer look at the steps than I had intended, leaving me with cut knees and an unattractive large purple bruise on my leg. At those times, you just want your mum to rush over and pick you up, brush you down and generally give you some sympathy. I was 25 and that was not going to happen, so I pushed my rounded self up, retrieved the oil can which had been flung to the ground as I'd tumbled, and ambled up to the house. The man quickly fixed the microwave and after noticing that I was visibly shaken, ascertained that I was not seriously hurt and then left.
I did not make it to more than 2 days past my due date. The jolt on the steps had been enough to encourage the baby that it was time to leave and my beautiful daughter was born at 11.33 on 6th October 1999. It was the start of a journey. An interesting, educational, fun-filled, exciting, scary journey with twists and turns. I do not need to take you on now. It is a journey which always takes me places I never expect to go and which, no matter how difficult it gets at times, I value, appreciating more than many that some people do not have their tickets stamped and have to watch from the platform. I am lucky to have had the opportunity.
But how much I have learnt about those things people don't talk about, and nobody can explain why, but we just don't talk about them?...
You should not talk about miscarriage; it makes people uncomfortable, they don't know what to say. In any case, by the third time it happens, they are bored of hearing about it, albeit in hushed whispers, and are out of sympathy.
Oh yes, people have noticed that your child doesn't seem to like other children, but don't mention it because it's not appropriate.
If I tell you that my child has 'special needs' It takes me a long time to gather the courage to use the term. I must first pass the induction period of being stared at because my child behaves differently and does not conform, through making excuses when people (they obviously don't know the rules) ask awkward questions or compare their socially accepted 'amazing' child with mine, on to telling people I meet that my child has 'special needs', making excuses even before they meet my child, just in case they notice something and make judgements.
Sometimes I have felt like shouting STOP! I WANT TO GET OFF! But, of course, it won't stop. You can't get off. Now, we sit together on our journey, laughing (especially at other people's reactions), watching and noticing just how odd so-called 'normal' people are, contented to be travelling together and neither of us looking for the exit.
Twelve years later, when I think of the days before my microwave broke, do I sound old when I say, those were the days?
Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's by John Elder Robison
