Not MY Child

Hi there, my Lovelies. Today, I thought I'd go back to the day that the word "autism" was first introduced to our family. It's one of those things, you hear of it happening to other children, to other families; but you never in your wildest dreams imagine it could ever happen to YOUR child.

That was my perception. Why wouldn't it be? My princess was my first child, I had nothing to reference to. Sure, we had noticed delays. Nothing at the time that struck me immediately as an issue. Every child grows and develops at their own pace. I still believe that. It wasn't until her 2 year well child check that my world came crashing around me.

The Prince was still a newborn and staying with my In-laws when we went to that doctors appointment. Everything started off normal. Height-- Hey, she's not standing on her own yet, can we get her height a different way?-- weight, blood pressure-- That was a new one to me!-- the usual. We were doing great! Then, the doctor came in. As she started asking me the typical questions-- "Is she walking?", "Is she feeding herself?", "Does she say (X) amount of words?"-- my stomach began to get a sinking feeling. As I replied to each of them, one by one, "No." that sinking feeling got worse. Her doctor then produced a single sheet of paper. At the top of the page I read, 'Autism Screening Checklist'. "This will be fine," I thought, as the doctor told me that she'd give me a few minutes alone to answer each of these questions to the best of my ability.

The directions were easy enough to figure out. Check 'yes', if you witness your child doing this often. Check 'Sometimes' for sometimes, etc. I go down the list, giving each question some thought, making sure that these were the truest answers to the question. Once completed, I look down the check-boxes and assure myself, "See, look at all the times I could mark 'yes'. It's fine." Finding a new calm in my self-assurance, I wait for the doctor's return. When she does, I watch her slowly calculate the score, I realize that I am analyzing her every facial tick. Which is funny, because I am certainly not all that skilled with the fine art of body language. But today, today I will try.

What seems like hours later-- Which translates to mere minutes-- she looks up at me and says, "She's a borderline pass/fail." What does that mean? Borderline? So I ask. The doctor takes her time explaining that while it could mean nothing at all, it does mean there's concern. There's a chance. I gather up as much information as I can. Ask as many questions as I can think of-- Which really aren't that many, I mean, this wasn't supposed to happen to MY child!-- I find out what the next step in the process is, all the while feeling like I am a floodgate ready to burst with the tears that I am trying so hard to hold back. I made it through.

The drive back to my in-laws to pick up the Prince was excruciating. I kept trying to hold a stoic face. Tried so desperately to hide my tears from the Princess. After all, I know she had to have picked up on some of what happened. I did not want her to think that Mommy was upset at all by her, after all she is still my beautiful little girl. The one I held in my arms the day she was born. The girl that when she smiled, it was the most genuinely beautiful smile I had ever seen. Were we really facing something that she may have to live with for the rest of her life?

I did hold it together all the way back. I held it together while I got her out of the car. I held it together when I got her set up to play for a bit while I spoke with my Mother In-Law. I held it together all the way through until I said that word. "Autism." It's a powerful word. It broke the floodgates. As the tears started pouring, and my Mother In-Law hugged me, I recapped the entire experience of that fateful doctor's visit.

I came to a realization then. While it is hard to keep a hold of sometimes, and I do struggle to focus on this, I realized again, that she was still the same little girl I held in my arms the day she was born. She's still the same little lady who stole my heart, and continues to hold it captive. She will always be my little girl. No matter what. She'll always be my Princess. We have a long road ahead of us, and certainly not an easy one. But with strength, support, and patience, we can walk this long, bumpy road together. As a family. As one.