WHAM warning: This is not a happy piece.

Although in real life, I have a son and not a daughter, the thoughts of the narrator are ones I have often had myself. When my son was at his worst, he was pretty much a zombie. I could clap my fingers an inch in front of his nose, and he wouldn't even blink, let alone startle. If I rubbed his back, his muscles would not relax or even become more tense. He was entirely in his own world; if you put him down and left him to his own devices, he would just sit still for hours on end. (Note: The last sentence is a bit speculative, since I wouldn't give him the luxury of being left alone to zone out for any substantial length of time; I kept trying to get him to come out of himself and join the rest of the world.) Even when he started come out of his months-long waking trance (for want of a better description), it was a very long time before he would interact with any other human being.

When I was pregnant, I had thought that being a mother was its own reward -- that I wouldn't expected anything in return for taking care of my child. I realized during my son's zombie stage that that wasn't quite true -- I had expected and wanted the reciprocity of his making eye contact with me, smiling at me, hugging me, and otherwise engaging in age-appropriate interactive behaviour with me. The period when he did none of that was especially hard, on many levels: I was petrified about what his behaviour meant for his own future (Would he ever interact with anyone or would his functioning always be barely more than that of someone in a coma?), I was concerned for his physical well-being (his physical special needs were at their worst during this phase of his life), and -- yes -- I was hurting emotionally, as well.

I am happy to report that although my son is still severely impacted by autism, his zombie phase only lasted a few months. He now makes excellent eye contact and will even smile at people. But as short as that phase was according to the calendar, it made a profound and life-long impression on me. In this short story, I tried to capture a little of what I went through during that time.

All comments appreciated.