Diagnosis Day: A Reflection

I can remember it like it was yesterday.  I already knew what the outcome would be- but I clung onto hope.

Two weeks prior, Eric had been sent for a speech evaluation and after some testing, they recommended a hearing test.   It’s an odd feeling, when your son fails a hearing test and you momentarily become a bit more hopeful.   Why was I happy my son failed a hearing test?  Because that meant possibly I was wrong.  Maybe there was another explanation.

After promptly going to the pediatrician following the hearing test, my hope was crushed to find out that he failed the hearing test because he had a double ear infection.

Sigh…..

Even more troubling about this was that we had no idea he was sick.   That was one of the first times we got a glimpse into his high pain tolerance.   

It broke my heart to think he thought this pain was possibly normal.  

It broke my heart to realize he was probably experiencing other pain we didn’t know about.

It broke my heart to know that this made the inevitable diagnosis even more likely.

On that perfectly sunny, crisp January day, we packed up our bag of tricks to entertain him and keep him happy during the doctor’s appointment.  While driving to the office I remember telling myself “I already know – so what difference will it really make?” 

So after waiting about 6 months for our appointment – it took the very non-emotional professional about 20 minutes of asking us questions and observing Eric play with a water toy and some plastic farm animals to come to her conclusion.  I remember thinking how subjective the testing was — all observational.  There were no blood tests.  No brain scans.  No conclusive report to confirm what — or more importantly why?

He was “evidencing with an autism spectrum disorder” I will never forget that moment.  I tried hard to bite my lip to stop the tears but it was a lost cause.  I didn’t even know why I was crying at that moment.   I guess mostly with fear of the unknown.  Fear of what that meant for our son, our family, our marriage, our lives.

Looking back now 12 years later I wish I cried less and breathed more.  Our son has taken us along for an unexpected journey – that has had some incredible highs and crushing lows.  I choose to remember the positives and learn from the negatives.  And of course, I still continue to hold onto hope.  

Hope for more conversation.

Hope for a glimpse inside his mind.

Hope to learn what makes him happy and what makes him scared.

Hope that the future will be kind to my boy. 

— Mrs. B

#autism