It's six months since our little mate was diagnosed with autism and a moderate intellectual disability. So much has happened in that time, and I thought I'd allow myself the time to reflect on my own emotional journey.
The diagnosis day itself was awful. I'm very good at putting a positive spin on things, but if I am honest with myself in the months that followed I came as close to depression as I have ever been in my life. For all the optimism I showed, on the inside I was confused and hurting and never far from tears. What would become of my boy?
The nightmare of trying to access services did not help. It is unbelievable to me that everyone bangs on about the importance of early intervention but that it is so very hard to access! Waiting lists are insane where we live (yes he is STILL on them with no admittance in sight, although when we move the new area has far better availability).
I would spend many insomniac nights worrying about his future. Would he ever attend a mainstream school? Would he ever achieve independence as an adult? What would happen to him if the Supertrucker or I were not around? Things that I will never have any control over ate away at me day and night and made me fairly unpleasant to be around I suspect.
I could not rationalise my feelings. I felt guilty for my sadness because a diagnosis of autism is not the same as a diagnosis of a terminal or chronic illness, but that did not change the sadness I felt.
As time passed and our boy displayed more and more mannerisms associated with autism that tiny hope that they were wrong disappeared. But along with that came an acceptance and a determination to do anything in my power to prepare him for the world, and protect him from it when necessary.
Six months on I have finally come to believe my own words. The labels have not changed who my son is. They did change how I perceived him for a time, but that too has passed and now I see only my beautiful, quirky, loving son.
Occasionally I have reason to explain to people that he has autism. I can do so now with confidence and pride. It does not define him, but it can help people understand him better. I no longer see the odd stares when he spins madly in the supermarket or counts up to thirty over and over and over again insisting I count with him. They are water off a duck's back. If people pre-judge him it is their loss for they will not know the wonder and happiness and love of my boy.
Some days are very challenging. Most nights are incredibly challenging. But time moves on, the challenges we faced six months ago are not the same as they are today and they will change again in the blink of an eye. I am trying to embrace the now and not worry so much about a future that is not set in stone.
And sometimes I even spin with him at the supermarket. And it is fun.
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