The Day I First Heard the A Word
You may have read that title and thought of a different word than I intended so I’ll go ahead and spill the beans – A is for Autism. I say it that way because when I first started to suspect that my child was behind developmentally, the A word never crossed by mind. I just thought he was behind in speech and there was some magic program or exercise I could do with him to get him caught up. I thought he may have had a hearing issue and with a simple fix he would be ‘better’ in no time. I tried every way I could to rationalize his delays into an easy solution and didn’t allow myself to even think about the possibility of a more serious underlying condition.
I was in a small exam room waiting for the pediatrician to enter while my son roamed the room and snacked on gold fish. I just completed the MCHAT assessment and remember he had 7 answers that I was concerned about. I thought that this was just a baseline test and that number would probably drop over time; again, I was trying to rationalize his development any way I could to avoid there being a larger issue at play. I knew I wanted to talk to the pediatrician about his development, but I didn’t realize this was going to be a life altering visit.
The doctor entered the room along with a student and initially tried to interact with my son to no avail. Shortly into our conversation the doctor said he suspected that my son may have Autism and suggested an early intervention program. Hearing the A word for the first time knocked the breath out of me. I immediately found it hard to breath in the scratchy blue mask I picked up in the lobby on the way into the appointment. It didn’t help that my tears started saturating my mask as they fell from my cheeks. This poor student was probably picturing cute babies and sweet giggles in her time in pediatrics and didn’t expect to deal with emotional mothers hearing life changing news.
In my defense, I was 8 weeks pregnant and my hormones were waging war against my emotions. For a while I have been embarrassed of how I responded to this news, but I have grown to realize that I am allowed to feel how I feel. And on this day I was incredibly sad. I cried most of the way home as I tried to debrief my husband on the visit over the phone. I cried as I sat in the kitchen floor robotically sorting through laundry as I wondered what this meant for my son’s life. I know now that I started the grieving process on that day. I was grieving the life I thought my son would have. I was grieving the fictitious relationships, education, and career I had built in my head for him that may have never come to fruition even without Autism.
That day was over 3 years ago and life has changed so much since then. My son has been supported by some of the most amazing teachers and therapists. He has made tremendous progress in his development. He continues to be the happiest person I know.
I have grieved. I have grown. I have advocated. I have loved him through it all.
