him for another child. I now know that Gabe is the same wonderfully magnificent son that I have always wanted and loved. But, that's how night and day a diagnosis for Autism felt to me. Our lives had an intruder we were totally unaware of. There was something that hid within my child, lurking around every corner where I could not see it. What still angers me the most, is that the people who knew about this "intruder", Autism, did and said nothing. All the signs were there. ALL THE SIGNS WERE THERE. It is still so raw within me. Gabe would've been diagnosed at one year old if someone, anyone listened to me that something was wrong. They seemed to have an explanation for everything and what bothers me is that they still do, right or wrong.I did tell my husband after a week of staying up till 3 AM reading online. I had begun to start writing in journals about Gabe's eating, talking, behavior and information about Autism. I was writing, making phone calls and crying all day long. My daughter, Boo, began to stutter. The stress and saddness enveloped our family.
The school system saw Gabe first, because they had the earliest appointment I could get. The Special Ed. teacher came to my house and talked to me for about 1 hour for the intake. Then the OT,PT, Speech and Psychologist came for a meeting at the school to observe Gabe for a half an hour. A half an hour! I can't eat lunch in a half hour and they were going to give their "diagnosis" of a possible neurological disorder to my son? Disappointed doesn't even begin to explain how I felt.
During that time, each person in the observation group would try to engage Gabe. The PT took a toy away from him and put him in a plastic tote that was surrounded by a net and proceeded to swing him as he screamed. After finding that the swing wasn't such a good idea, the PT took off his shirt (Oh no) and slapped his cold body on a pilates ball. What did this all show me? Well, that they have the ability to really piss Gabe off to the point where he was screaming and huddled in a corner after 15 minutes.
The team then turned to me and said "What do you do at home when he is like this?"
I wanted to say, "Well, I don't normally strip my son down, roll him on a ball and throw him in a swing."
BUT,
this is what I mustered, " Just let him calm down on his own. He does not like to be touched when he is upset."
Then I got the stares.
Oh great, another opportunity to cry.
We left with a diagnosis of Developmental Delay. I knew they were wrong. Gabe was delayed in speech and social skills, but because he didn't stim to their specifications, hand flapping etc, he was not Autistic. Gabe carried around two of something wherever he went. It soothed him. Two balls, two cars, two
Polly Pockets. Even I saw that as being unique to Autism. I left knowing that I would have to wait another month until I had some real answers. That was the earliest appointment I could get with a team of specialists in Autism through a leading hospital.
One month later on my birthday, he would be given the ADOS.
(to be continued)
