Oh no, not again!

I am finding this to have a little bit of a DejaVu feel to it.  Me sitting here, typing about my journey and my stuggles, and tearing up at the thought of what I want to share with you today.

Since starting this journey last year after getting Tessa’s diagnosis, and finally coming to terms with it, I started a Fecebook support group.  I thought that with all of the pain that I have gone through, I might be able to provide comfort to another parent, or family member.  If I could do that, it would be worth it.  And I have.  Over and over again.  I have helped give a little bit of comfort, support, and education to dozens and dozens of families since I made the conscious decision to do so.

Then I found myself posting on another Facebook support page not too long ago, because this time, it was me that needed some support.  This time, I needed someone to hold my hand and tell me everything was going to be okay.  This time, I needed someone to tell me that I didn’t do anything wrong, and that I didn’t do anything to cause this to happen to not just one of my babies, but now possibly both of them.

Yes, you read that right.  I am going through this journey again.  My baby boy.  My beautiful baby boy may also be on the autism spectrum.  He is now 26 months, and I had an inkling about it as far back as almost a year ago.  

He was displaying some “unusual” behaviors, especially for a child that young.  But I kept telling myself just that; “ah, it’s just unusual, that’s all”.  And I kept on telling myself whatever would make me feel better.  Then we took him in for his 16 month check up with the Community Health Nurse.  She was a bit concerned, as he wasn’t talking yet.  At all.  All he had at that time was some version of “Dad”.  I don’t even think he had “Mom” yet.  So she sent a letter to my family doctor, and said keep a close eye on him.

Fast forward to my next visit at my family doctor’s office.  He said the “right” things, the consoling things; “I’m sure it’s nothing”, “He is probably just a late bloomer”, etc.  I appreciated him for that.  But he also said “just to be safe, let’s get him evaluated anyway”.  So, back into the system of long waits we went.  Here in Alberta, specifically Calgary, with as young as my little guy is, he has to go to a special clinic out of Children’s hospital.  But with the higher prevalence these days of “disorders”, there is a waiting list.  I have had my initial “intake” interview with them, and was told that based on the “behaviors” he has, and the fact that he is still non-verbal, he will go on the Autism Spectrum Disorder “list”.  I guess at the clinic, they have two lists.  One for Autism Spectrum Disorders and one for everybody else.  And guess which one takes longer?  Sigh. (this is totally fodder for another day, and another educational post, but in all of the research that I have done thus far in my journey, I have a HIGH suspicion of why we are seeing more and more of these disorders these days, but I digress).  The clinician also told me on that day that my little guy was pre-approved for speech therapy, and that we needed to get a pediatrician, for the eventual diagnosis.  I gotta tell ya, after that “pre-interview” is when I started to panic a little inside.

So that brings us to meeting our pediatrician.  It’s a long, boring story, but suffice it to say, I left the office in tears that day.  And have been in tears many, many times since then.

It is amazing how the world can come crashing down on top of your shoulders so quickly.  Some days, I feel pretty good, and I think “I can do this”, and some days, I don’t want to get out of bed because I am feeling so sorry for myself.  How can I, a person who has dedicated her entire adult life to helping others, get chosen to have not one, but two special needs children?  What did I do in a previous life that was so bad?  (I should mention here that he has not been officially diagnosed yet, as we are still waiting to get into the specialty clinic, but in the meantime, our new pediatrician is helping to already set up early interventions for him; that’s a pretty big clue).

I am finding this time around harder.  Because I KNOW in my bones that there is nothing “wrong” with him, as I have already come to that conclusion with my daughter.  She is special, and different, and perfect just the way she is.  I just had to learn how to adjust to the way she sees the world.  And I know that will be the same way with the baby, but there are days that I come back to “why me?”  I thought I was over feeling sorry for myself, but I am not.  I still have bad days.  Like today, can you tell?  I bet if I re-visit this blog tomorrow, I will have a better outlook than today. But you know what?  Today, I’m okay feeling sorry for myself.  Because, I know I will get there.  I did with my daughter.  And I will with my son.  But just not today.