The upshot of it all was that
he’s doing so well with his talking that he no longer needs the specialist
speech therapist, but as a parting gesture she’s referring him for an autism
assessment. Unable to ignore his repetitive behaviour and fear of new
situations, she feels she has to.
So she finally said it –
although of course I knew she’d been thinking it ever since their first
meeting. I feel a tiny bit of relief that someone has finally named the white
elephant in the room, I understand now why all the special treatment, the
tip-toeing around him, the various people coming in to nursery to work with
him. It was obvious they thought something beyond timidness was going on here
and at least now it is out in the open. I’m glad that’s cleared up.
But it totally floored me.
He’s come such a long way in the last few months, I wasn’t expecting it now. I
thought that worry was a thing of a past, a phase he’d now grown out of.
If it was just the speech
therapist saying it I could take it with a pinch of salt, I’m sad to say I
haven’t really rated her. I could also maybe choose to ignore the early years
people who carried out one assessment of him when he’d only just started
nursery and hadn’t settled in yet, they didn’t get to see his true colours
either. But the nursery backed them too, the nursery who’ve been so great with
him, who I trust, the nursery head who has two sons with autism. They too
pointed out behaviour that concerned them.
As for the things they said,
some of the examples I agreed with, albeit only partially, others I felt were
blown out of proportion, others I absolutely didn’t agree with at all (he
doesn’t have any trouble with different food textures, he’s a great eater!) Some
of what they said I recognised, but whereas I didn’t think it was all that
unusual, or down to the fact he only started putting sentences together 3
months ago (repeating phrases, not knowing how to talk to other children) –
they were suddenly recited at me as cause for grave concern. It was a nightmare.
I’m sorry if I sound angry or
bitter. I know I’m being defensive and feel like almost attacking the
professionals and I actually don’t mean to. It’s just that I want to be angry
at someone, defend my son against this, stand up for him. But there’s no one to
fight… If that makes sense. I do know that they’re on our side and trying to
help. They can only go on what they’ve seen, and enough flags have been raised
to warrant further investigation. They are doing the right thing. I’m sure
parents who’ve had to practically break down doors to get help for their kids
would tell me that.
It’s just so very hard to
hear. It broke my heart. I suddenly imagined a lonely future for my wonderful
little boy, unable to make friends, form a relationship… I quickly leapt to
feeling scared about what would become of him when I’m no longer around. I will
fiercely protect him as long as I’m alive, but who will look after him then? I
know, I know, that is the worst case scenario.
You see I do know my little
boy is different. He always was. I saw it in playgroups, at parties, we always
stood apart from the crowd. But I don’t know that I believe he’s autistic.
But whenever I offered an
example of his behaviour that contradicted their conclusions, they sounded
surprised but then told me: “The spectrum is very wide.” How can I come back against that? Maybe his
behaviour does put him on the spectrum? I just don’t know. His play can be
quite repetitive, but he doesn’t get lost in repetitive loops in the way I
thought autistic kids do?... He does like being around people… he is sociable…
his eye contact is great… he’s clingy, not distant…
But the spectrum is very wide
so I’m told.
Anyway apparently there’s a
long waiting list and the assessment itself is a long process, so there won’t
be a definitive answer for a good while yet. I don’t like living with
uncertainties, but I’ve now got to live with this hanging over us for the
remainder of this pregnancy and beyond. I feel like I’m scrambling to try and
get to the top of the hill and cope with it all as quickly as I can.
Thankfully little Taters is
oblivious and as happy as always. And I intend to do everything I can to keep
him that way.
Before I sign off for today I
want to say one last thing. Since that meeting I have become obsessed with the subject
and I’ve read everything I can get my hands on about it and I have come to one realisation
that’s comforting me right now.
Being diagnosed with ASD or
autism does not doom a person to a life of misery. Just as being “normal” does
not guarantee a happy ever after.
I’ve got a lot to process
right now…
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