Well I suppose it’s official.  Yesterday we saw a developmental specialist who diagnosed Nathan with Autism. Perhaps I am still digesting and processing everything but if anything I felt relieved.  I finally had the diagnosis I had been suspecting on and off since Nathan was only a few months old.  The doctor wants to start intensive therapy as soon as possible – 4 hours a day of ABA (applied behavioral analysis) in addition to his 2.5 hours of preschool.  He said he has seen pretty amazing results with this therapy and since Nathan is on the milder side of things, we are very hopeful.

After feeling relieved I jumped pretty quickly into being pissed off.  When Nathan was 9,12 and 18 months old I repeatedly told his pediatrician of all my concerns and that I thought Nathan was autistic. He dismissively brushed me off as being just another paranoid mother.  Then, when he finally had me convinced things were ok, the playgroup told me they weren’t.  I am sure you remember that fiasco.  I actually e-mailed his teachers at the playgroup and thanked them for their honesty and that Nathan was finally getting the help he needed because of them.  But the main source of my anger was myself.  Why did I let a rude doctor make me feel like an idiot when I could have just charged ahead and gotten Nathan the help he needed much sooner?  Why did I choose to believe him when I knew in my gut from so early on that something was very off?

After being pissed off I thankfully jumped into a “let’s move forward” mode.  I am very eager to start Nathan’s therapy, which will hopefully start up in the next few weeks.  I am ready to do everything necessary for Nathan to be successful.  I consider this my full-time job now… in addition to student (which I refuse to give up even in the midst of all of this), wife and mother to another silly and amazing little boy.

And then there is a part of me that I think is just trying to be repressed right now.  It’s all the unknowns, which tend to get me down.  What will his prognosis be?  Will he be able to have a successful and happy life?  Will I ever be able to have a real conversation with my son?  I just want to talk to him.  Yes he is verbal but there is very little genuine communication with language.  I want answers to everything the future holds and I can’t have them.

I am trying to focus on our own little triumphs every day, like Nathan making eye contact when he says something.  Things could be so much worse and we really are so lucky.  Nathan is a physically very healthy boy.  He is not on the severe side of the spectrum at all.  He is full of life and a complete joy. I’ve never seen a happier little boy and I am willing to do everything in my power to keep it that way.  We’ll find a way to make it through whatever comes our way.