Autism. One single word that changed every aspect of my life. Fortunately for me, one that I can look back on and say for the better. Six plus years ago you could not have gotten me to believe I would be perceiving a diagnosis that way. Amazing what time can do to ones’ perspective. Autism is God's plan for my son, Evan, who was just 22 months old when he was diagnosed. Sitting in the Psychiatric unit of Childrens Hospital watching the variety of children around me and thinking there is no way my son should be there. He is in no way as bad off as these other children are. This whole thing is a mistake and no, no he doesn’t belong here. The mountain of paperwork in front of me quickly brought me back to semi – reality. “Does your child speak?”, “Can he or
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For hours I was grilled along with Evan on the can and can nots of his little world. Every time they would ask Evan a question or to do something I would be praying inside that he would acknowledge them. He never did. Six hours and one small break later the Developmental Pediatrician came back in carrying a huge binder. My heart sank. I grew up around Doctors and Therapists so I knew exactly what that meant. Most of her words from that day are still jumbled up in my head. I do remember very clearly when she stated what I desperately didn’t want to hear but already knew. “In order to be diagnosed with Autism one must meet 3 criteria and Evan meets all 3” followed by a pause that I am sure didn’t last nearly as long as I felt it did. She continued by asking me if I was surprised. Well no, no I wasn’t. My head knew all along what my heart didn’t want to acknowledge. We spent the next hour going through the list of what his delays were and what he “would never do”. Then I left with that dreaded binder in hand. The same one I can spot a mile away when I see someone else carrying
For hours I was grilled along with Evan on the can and can nots of his little world. Every time they would ask Evan a question or to do something I would be praying inside that he would acknowledge them. He never did. Six hours and one small break later the Developmental Pediatrician came back in carrying a huge binder. My heart sank. I grew up around Doctors and Therapists so I knew exactly what that meant. Most of her words from that day are still jumbled up in my head. I do remember very clearly when she stated what I desperately didn’t want to hear but already knew. “In order to be diagnosed with Autism one must meet 3 criteria and Evan meets all 3” followed by a pause that I am sure didn’t last nearly as long as I felt it did. She continued by asking me if I was surprised. Well no, no I wasn’t. My head knew all along what my heart didn’t want to acknowledge. We spent the next hour going through the list of what his delays were and what he “would never do”. Then I left with that dreaded binder in hand. The same one I can spot a mile away when I see someone else carrying