It's taken a while to get here. In retrospect, there were clues. Before he was 2, my son would spend hours arranging puzzle pieces alphabetically (we were thrilled that he played so well independently and had mastered his ABCs). When the other kids were giving hugs, he would run away in sheer terror. When his sister was born he just ignored her. For 3 months.
And on and on. I could go on for pages listing my son's quirks. And who's to say that's not all they are, just quirks? We spent months being told to keep an eye on it. Sure there are red flags, but he's so young, let's just wait and see.
What everyone was reluctant to do was use the A word. No one would actually say out loud what we were supposed to be keeping an eye out for. Red flags for what? I wouldn't say it either. I knew I was looking at signs of autism, but I didn't want to mention it in case I was way off base.
Eventually, we couldn't skirt around the issue anymore. Ignacio got a formal diagnosis: PDD-NOS. This is a generic diagnosis that will probably change, but firmly puts him "on the spectrum." Notice there's still no use of the A word.
If I learned nothing else in Social Work school, I did pick up a healthy distrust of 2 things: formal diagnoses and "experts." So, I was surprised at how much relief I got from being able to put a label on my child. I know longer had to worry, "What if he has Autism?" He does. I can work to accept that and work to help him.
Of course I am still grieving. I want nothing more than for life to be easy for him and easier for me. I know that I will constantly have to advocate for my child and redefine "normal." I will have to sort through all of the information out there and decide what is best for my child and our family. That is a daunting task for any parent. I am scared. I constantly have to remind myself that life is not easy for anyone. And hey, we're all a little quirky, aren't we?
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