What a week! It doesn’t seem anything about this new year is going to slow down for me. I’m pooped! On this weekend’s agenda we have the usual errands, laundry, menu planning, grocery shopping, a birthday party at Build A Bear, and movies with some friends and their kids possibly.
So, we have our diagnosis of autism for our youngest son. While it came as no surprise I am still processing how it has made me feel to see it in black and white in a psychologist’s report. I’ve been so busy with “life” and have just gone straight into lining up some additional things I want checked on for him (allergy testing, genetic testing, gastro check, seeking a private eval, etc.) that I’m not sure how I’m really feeling. Isn’t there a part of us as their parent that is suppose to grieve a bit for the child we don’t and do have? I just feel like I’m trying so hard to focus on the positive things in this situation (he’s happy, sociable, affectionate, verbal w/some speech issues, etc.) that accepting the part that hurts my heart is sort of being ignored. I think subconsciously I feel it would be selfish to stop for a bit and let myself be sad and depressed a bit over it all. As if this small pause would not be in his best interest and that everything I do from this point forward MUST be in his best interest or else I’ve failed him. Deep, deep, deep down in me is this little voice asking why, why, why my son is now lumped into this statistic of 1 in 70 boys and 1 in 110 children.
Maybe when I’m ready I will go back and reread the Welcome To The Club post that I read many months ago and just have a good cry.