You know when you know something but to hear the words spoken out loud, still has an earth shattering effect on you?
This is what happened to me last week. I knew my sweet little boy had Aspergers. I knew from watching the struggles of his older brother, that he was exhibiting the same signs. He had been diagnosed already with Sensory Processing Disorder, but I still had a feeling in my gut that he had Aspergers as well.
Last week, my gut feeling was confirmed. I met with his team at school to go over the results of his neuropsych evaluation. I had read the evaluation results, but they were way above me. It was a gut check to hear the interpreted results. The good - my boy is super smart. Off the charts smart in some areas. This I knew. I knew how intelligent he is. All of my kids are. I am blessed in that way. The not so good - he is deficient in certain areas. Again, I knew this. In some instances he is on both extremes. One off the charts high and something else, close to off the charts, low. The bad - if it walks, like a duck, talks like a duck, it is a duck. Those were the words spoken to me.
The words that shake you to the core. Your child has autism. He has Aspergers. The eval doesn't say that directly, but it rated him in the high probability.
My child has a label now - Autism.
I am fine with him being labeled. It helps him to get services he needs. It pushes services through faster. He is getting the much needed help he has been missing.
Say what you will about where I live and the schools my kids attend (I think they are top notch), I witnessed something that was truly amazing. My son's teacher close to tears because she felt like she failed him. She was so upset that she couldn't help him they way he needs to be helped. She has tried so many strategies, but he requires a bit more than she can provide with the 25 other kids in her class.
My older son has had his share of teachers that just turned a blind eye to his disability. They labeled him, but not with the Autism label, they labeled him as a Discipline problem.
To witness first hand the angst my sons teacher had over the fact that he now has to be pulled out for a part of the day to spend time in the PDD special ed room was so moving.
As a parent, I feel like I failed my kids. Both of my boys have a form of Autism. I can't help but feel like it is somehow my fault. I have said this before, and I will say it again and again.... I have NO idea if the drugs I took to have my babies, have caused them this condition. There is no research supporting it either way. I know without my taking these drugs, they wouldn't be here. But I can't help but feel guilty for the struggles in life they will have. That it's my fault. Both of my boys have a form of Autism.
Yes, I know we are extremely lucky. My kids are very high functioning. They are "normal" for the most part. Their issues have a lot to do with the social-emotional aspect. They don't know how to maintain self control. To the outside world, the people that don't know them, all they see are out of control kids. Discipline problems. It's a struggle they will have to face their entire lives.
As I have said before, I am fortunate to live where I live. My kids get amazing support from their schools. Sitting in and watching and listening to B's team, amazes me. They WANT to help him. They WANT to see him succeed. They are trying to give him the skills that he will need in life. I sit in awe of what they are willing to do to help my son. I spoke of how it took a long time for G to get his diagnosis. It was the end of 3rd grade for him, he had an awful 4th grade year because the teachers didn't want to believe the diagnosis. The Principal said, well I am glad we caught B early. The earlier we can start therapies with him, the better. She wasn't the principal when G was in 3rd and 4th grade. She was new to the school last year as Asst. Principal, and got the job when the former Principal left. She is truly an asset to the school. It is nice to see her present in the meetings, she knows my kids, she knows their struggles, she is able to spot the signs of a meltdown. It helps me to know that I am sending my kids to a place, while it is scary for me to do, but it is comforting to know that there is a team of people that are there to support him and not punish him. G struggled for years with people not understanding him. I didn't understand him. I wasn't sure what was going on. Teachers, for legal reasons, can't say too much about how your children are. I do remember G's second grade teacher, one time asking me if I had ever had him tested for Autism. I said no, why, she said oh no reason. and then she dropped it. I had NO idea this was her way of telling me she saw something. But she couldn't say it.
G is in a new school this year, and that is scary as well. He has been doing great for the most part, but there are still the adjustments that have to be made. I met with his team last week as well. They are truly a great support system. they want to give him the skills to succeed in life.
I am in awe of their dedication to their profession and to helping my child.
It takes a village to raise a child. I never really got that saying. But now I know what it means. And I am forever grateful to the people in my boys lives. My family that is always there for them and me, no matter what. My sister that sits by my side at all the meetings. Offering support and advice and opinions. She can sometimes convey things that I have a hard time getting out. I cannot thank her enough for being there. She helps me keep it together when I am about to fall apart. The teachers and administrators at both kids schools. To see B's teacher almost break down in tears and say she is sorry she has failed my child. I can't ask for anything better than that. That is dedication to your job. That is commitment to my kids. And I thank her so much for that. For knowing what she is and isn't capable of.
I know I am lucky and I am forever grateful for the opportunities at a "normal" life my kids will have. They will learn the skills that will make life not so tough for them.
