Saturday Miracle League started back up, which is a program made for individuals with mental and/or physical challenges to have an opportunity to play baseball.
We have been attending for a few years now. Our team and league is made up of a variety of abilities and disabilities, which I’ve always found beautiful. However, not many children with ASD.
Unlike the players with down syndrome, cerebral palsy, or other mental or physical challenge autism doesn’t have a look. And while my son may sit to the side, lays on the ground, runs back and forth, or vocal stim and loop scripts, many people just see a little boy.
I have encountered moments when I find myself explaining autism and invisible disabilities. Which I am happy to do but it also can feel like I’m justifying our presence. Overall everyone is usually so kind.
This was the first time I felt unwanted. As the new season kicked off, we welcomed some new players to the team. Two moms who knew each other outside of the league were chatting nearby, one new and the other returning.
I overheard the new mom praising the diversity of our team, while the other whispered a comment, gesturing towards the one other boy on our team with ASD. In all honesty I could not hear what was whispered,.
But I did hear her friend’s response, which was a graceful reminder that not all disabilities are visible.
I appreciated her response. However, I also sensed that some sort of judgment was made in that whisper about him being there, which I’m sure also included my son.
Both boys look typical to many people. For our family it’s something we often have to explain.
If you just look at J or saw him from across a room you likely wouldn’t think he has a disability. But once someone spends just a little bit of time with him they realize he is not a typical 9 year old boy.
I wanted to speak up, but I knew I had to tread carefully. I didn’t trust myself to refrain from overreacting or causing a scene.
Plus, it would have been clear I was eavesdropping—
!
But! I wanted to ask, ‘Where are families like ours supposed to go? Where do kids like mine belong?’ ‘We can’t just join any typical baseball team; my son needs the support and understanding this league offers.’
I understand that the other mom may see her child’s abilities differently from mine, but it still stings to see certain kids, like my son, not feel welcomed or allowed.
I know not everyone feels the same as her but it sucks. It’s like we don’t belong anywhere.
It’s a reminder of the different perspectives we all bring to the table, and perhaps a lesson for us all to learn from.
jaimeramoswrites.com 