A hug is defined as a near international form of physical intimacy in which two people put their arms around the neck, back, or waist of one another and hold each other closely.
Let's just take one moment to look at the words physical intimacy... Physical, in this case meaning, body and intimacy meaning belonging together. This is all fine. I am a fan of hugging; I hug my husband, my kids, my family and close friends. What I am not a huge fan of is hugging someone upon the initial meeting. When did this become the norm? I understand handshaking carries a certain amount of germ passing on the other hand it also creates a certain amount of space between to human bodies. Some people, Sophie for one, are not comfortable with physical touch.
When Emily was a little girl she would sit on my lap and we would read books, she loved to lay down next to me on the sofa during quiet time or snuggle between her dad and I. Sophie was a totally different story. Sometimes, with much reluctance, she would sit beside me-never on my lap. She never wanted to lay on the sofa preferring to enjoy quiet time in her own bed and forget about her squeezing in with Bill and I. My first thought was thank goodness, she is not one of those clingy kids! Then I became sad and longed for the days of cuddling with my little girl. I stopped taking it personally when I noticed she didn't want anyone to touch her. She rarely even wanted anyone to hold her hand. In the world of ASD this isn't strange at all and our family adjusted. Her Auntie switched to high fives, I learned to ask before kissing her goodnight or holding her hand and her grandma and her began bumping elbows as a sign of affection. We were good. The family got the message and we saw clear sailing ahead.
As often happens a storm began to brew. Somewhere out in the world the hug became end all be all of greeting anyone and everyone. Soon people we just met were swooping in for the hug instead of saying, nice to meet you. I found a NY Times article dating back to 2009 exploring this same question and another as recently as 2014 explaining why the Asian culture is hesitant to embrace this salutation.
Overall we are a friendly family and know many people from all sorts of areas of life. I am very active in a women's organization and see several of these ladies a few times a week. Some of us are very friendly with each other and grown to be close friends. They are nice women and there are a lot of them I hug. When they meet my family their natural instinct is to feel close to them too and want to hug them. As they approach Sophie with wide open arms I see her face change from indifferent to worry. Most times I can step in between and intercept the hug but once in a while I just cant make it. My very good and very perceptive friend 'MB" sensed Sophie's discomfort really quickly and she began the fist bump with Sophie. Not only did she start fist bumping she asks first every single time. This is huge in Sophie's eyes and she and "MB" have become fast friends.
This morning as we were waiting for the school bus and chatting I asked Sophie how she felt about people who want to hug her. She promptly gave me two thumbs down so I decided to ask her what she could do when a encompassing clasp was heading her way. She immediately held up her hand in a stop sign and said, no thank you! Then I helped her with some other words to use such as, How about a fist bump and I don't like hugs!
I have to say that sometimes I agree with her. There are first encounters where I would like to hold up a hand and say, no, thank you. We just met. How about a fist bump?
On a cool fall day I was laying on the sofa reading a book as the curtains gently blew in the breeze. I could hear the kids laughing, their shoes making a smacking sound as they ran up and down the driveway. Sophie was giggling one moment and then I heard her happiness change to nervousness, I don't know how to do that she said in a softer more embarrassed voice the other kids yelled with glee and shouted You don't know what two plus two is? Quietly I got up and tiptoed to the screen door I stood off to the side where the children couldn't see me. What grade are you in? The tallest boy taunted, Yeah, what grade? his younger brother chimed in. I peaked around the corner and saw Sophie hang her head, she tried to smile and laugh with others but clearly she didn't get the joke. The other girl in the group then began to ask her to spell, right then I'd had enough. I opened the screen and asked what was going on, immediately the kids started to declare how can Sophie not know what grade she is in? Can't she add? Can't she spell? I was angry. So angry at them for teasing her and trying to make her feel badly. I took a deep breath and knew the time had come for me to tell them that Sophie was in fact different.
When Bill and I found out Sophie's diagnosis a part of me knew that one day I would have to have a talk with her and tell her about it but a larger part of me somehow thought that I would never ever have to discuss it with her. As her mommy I figured I would be able to 'protect' her from that news. We would get her into the proper school, the best therapies and love her, there would be no need for her to know the details. How could I be so naïve and unaware? I knew that information gave us choices and power so why wouldn't I want to give that to my daughter? I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want her to feel separate or less than her peers. On the other hand if she was unaware there was a name for her difference, that could make her feel worse. So I stepped out on the porch and called the kids over, I told them that Sophie's brain worked in a unique way that wasn't the same as theirs. I explained that all of us learn differently and that things like math and spelling did not come easily to Sophie but that other things were much easier for her like art and drawing. Most of them began to nod in agreement but the tall boy boastfully announced that he knew about science and the periodic table of elements, at this point I really wanted to pinch him but refrained and started again. 'have any of you ever heard of autism'?
The tall boy, of course, shook his head yes. 'Well, that is what Sophie has. It means she looks at things in a way that you and I do not. She can do things we can't and some of the things we think are simple are more difficult for her' The girl nodded her head and said, 'Oh. I have heard of that' she skipped off ready to continue playing. Several minutes later as I was taking out the trash Sophie came over to me and whispered into my ear, 'mom, is it true'? yes, I replied 'Oh my gosh! Do the kids at my school know'? Laughing I said, 'honey all the kids at your school have autism' she looked at me for a long moment, 'Good, because I really like my friends at school'
Is that I how I wanted to tell Sophie about her diagnosis? No. I wanted it to be just right. I wanted to sit with her and talk all about it and what it means and what it doesn't mean but the reality is that I don't even know what it does and does not mean. The reality is that this was the day and time I had to tell her. The reality is that me thinking that we could sit and discuss this is a fantasy in my mind. My daughter would not have wanted to sit and discuss for an hour her diagnosis, she is perfectly happy to know that her friends at school get her and like her and she likes them.
When I have asked her what it is like to have autism her response is always the same, 'it is AWESOME'! That is how she feels and how I feel is that she is AWESOME!
