Look Ma! I Shaved...

My oldest son, now 16, ambled down the stairs and plopped up on the bar stool for breakfast.  I looked at him and felt a delay in thought, a momentary pause in processing.  

Something’s different. Why I am thinking of Silas from the Davinci Code, and why does it seem my son resembles him in some way? In those few seconds of bewilderment, my mind computes. 

My son has shaved his eyebrows off…completely off.  

We had spent the summer working on him shaving all on his own.  No more enabling I declared to my husband! Of course, I suggested an electric razor, but my husband insisted on taking it old school style with a razor and shaving cream. Would the same result have occurred with a Norelco?  Could I blame my husband for this one? My son had shaved numerous times on his own, even handling the inevitable nicks along the way with ease, so I had felt there were no worries. 

On this morning, he is casual about his creative shaving and makes no mention of it until I do.  I’m a gal that loves a good laugh.  I do. And it is true that every single time I say the words “my son shaved his eyebrows off” the immediate reaction of my listener is complete and unabashed laughter.Yet in those first few moments, looking at my son without eyebrows, laughter does not come to me.  I’m guessing he was simply curious, but sorrow comes to me, heavily resting in the pit of my stomach.  Hello universe. I understand my son is different.  Did you think I needed a visual reminder? How can I protect him now from the stares and judgment of others?

My immediate physical response is to gently cup his jaw line with both of my hands and stare into his eyes.  I trace around his smoothly shaved chin and cheeks.  I run my fingertips over where his eyebrows should be.  “Why did you do it?”

“It just happened.” He later says, “I was curious to see what I would look like.”

“Well what do you think?”  

“I look weird!”

“Promise me you’ll never do this again."

“Oh I won’t Mom.  Are you frustrated with me?”

“I’m not frustrated, just a little sad because you don’t look like yourself.”

“I’m sorry Mom.” He then walks over to a mirror and makes animated faces.  

I send an email to his school to let them know.  It is clear when we arrive at school that all teachers have received the news because my son is met with one reaction:  the usual cheerful greeting. My son walks through the hallways without any evident display of embarrassment.  His friends don’t even seem to care or take particular notice. What if I had been dropping my son off at public school instead of this small, nurturing private school?  I can’t help but feel certain my son’s reception would have been quite different.

I’m thankful that I know my son is loved, cared for, accepted, valued and safe from ridicule and bullying at his school.  We are on our 5^th year of experiencing such a life-changing gift.

While my gratefulness overflows for them, I still leave carrying the sorrow that weighs heavily within.   I let the pity wheel begin its predictable spin.  Other moms take their sons to get their driver's licenses when they turn 16; I drive my son for at least 45 minutes each way to school everyday, and now he has no eyebrows.    

Thankfully, I have lunch plans scheduled this day with a good friend who happens to mother a child who has autism.  Interactions with anyone that lives in this world are my happy pills in life. I don’t want to let myself run the pity wheel; we all know it doesn’t really take you anywhere.

I tell my friend.  “He shaved his eyebrows off.”  She bursts into laughter.  I hadn’t decided I could laugh about this yet.  In fact if I had seen one person laugh at school, I might have burst out into tears and cried out,  “Don’t laugh at my boy!” Yet when she laughs, the sorrow in the pit of my stomach leaves me instantly.  It is as if she has freed me to laugh and tells me by her own laughter that it’s okay to do so.  Sweet, healing release. She slaps high five with me and says, “You win today!”  

We proceed to tell our most outrageous stories. Her stories would astound but they are hers to tell. We not only laugh, but we howl until our guts hurt and tears roll down our cheeks.  We share every ridiculous, out there moment we’ve had in this journey, and we continue to laugh and cry in joyous relief.  She suggests I just let him wear Groucho Marx glasses.  I laugh at the bushy eyebrow visual of it, and I leave the restaurant in search of a novelty store.  Yes, I tell myself, the woman who walked into school in the morning feeling on the verge of tears will now walk into school in the afternoon wearing Groucho Marx glasses that she’ll pass on to her boy.  Crazy?  Not normal? You betcha! Funny, freeing and adapting to the unusual in the best way I know how?  Absolutely!

The store I find does not carry Groucho Marx glasses though.  My mind wanders. I’m not sure how long it takes to grow back eyebrows.  Does Chia Pet or Rogaine offer an eyebrow accelerator kit? I stumble upon a mustache tattoo collection.  If autism has taught me anything, it taught me to think outside the box, or in this case, outside the mustache. I’m partial to the temporary eyebrow fix of the carnie for the left and the el bandito for the right. I laugh out loud again, standing in a shop, oblivious to what others think of me.  Sweet release from pain that could so easily steer me the other way.

Later at home, I prepare my youngest son when he comes home from school.  “Your brother shaved his eyebrows off.”

“Oh my God!”  He runs downstairs to find his brother.  He comes back up to me, and we laugh and say, “I know, I can’t believe it!”  We talk about his day.  We move on.

His sister and dad are away on a trip. They both laugh on the phone when I share the news, although my husband says he’s sorry as he imagines it feels hard to see.  He then asks if he and our daughter can keep traveling and not return home for several months.  Sarcasm is another type of happy pill we all take on a daily basis.

A few days later, my husband and daughter return from their trip. My daughter is quite close with her brother, and she is always honest.  “You look so weird!  I can’t believe you did this!” He laughs.  “I know, it was silly!”  We all sit around laughing together.  My daughter says to him, “Come with me.”  They return a few moments later.  She has drawn on some brows with an eyebrow pencil.  “There that looks better.”  He looks in the mirror and agrees.  

My husband says until his eyebrows grow back, it might be best to hang at home more. However, later in the day, after rubbing off the drawn in brows, my son declares that he would like to go play tennis.  In our household that is like saying “I would like to part the Red Sea.”  My son is very phobic about sounds and going outside is never anything he is drawn to, particularly in a spontaneous way and by his own idea.  Most outings require days of planning and negotiating, often involving headsets to block out sounds. He is not terribly coordinated in his tennis skills either. So his request astounds yet it is one that trumps everything; suddenly whether or not he has eyebrows seems meaningless.  My husband runs out with him immediately to the courts, and they play tennis just like any father and son might do on any ol’ ordinary day.  If someone were watching they might say, "Look at the boy with no eyebrows," but we would say, "Look at the boy playing tennis!"  Maybe curiosity is blossoming and shaved eyebrows were just one manifestation.  Apparently playing tennis is another. They returned with smiles on their faces and the declaration from my son, “That was fun!”

If I learned anything from this experience it is that I could spend all my moments focusing on those  missing eyebrows or I could focus on the bigger picture.  I have a beautiful family who loves, supports, values and accepts each other. I have friends that feel like the sisters I never had.  My oldest son attends a school that is so warm and nurturing to him. I consider this group of professionals to be not only a life raft but second family. My life is defined by love, unity and meaning.  

In the meantime, I’m happy to report that I’m enjoying my new status of eyebrow expert extraordinaire. How many days does it take to grow back eyebrows you might ask? We are still at the five o’clock stubble stage, but I’ll get back to you.

 If you are interested to learn more about autism therapy options, I suggest visiting the website www.icdl.com which offers a wealth of information including how to find therapists and educators in your area.  This tale of love and acceptance could never have been written without the loving guidance and support we found within this stellar community.