The Diagnosis

My worst fears had been confirmed. My first and only child had been diagnosed with autism. I was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. I was numb, sad, confused, feeling sorry for myself and my child, angry, and feeling like I was being punished. I wondered what the future would hold for my child and I, how would people perceive and react to his diagnosis.  Deep down inside I was still hoping he would improve in the future, hoping he would probably just wake up one day talking and that he would get better with therapy. Was I in denial? I don’t think so. I had been exposed and thrown into a new world, but, I was still hopeful.

I had been observing the signs but didn’t know what the cause was. There was the poor eye contact, the constant lining up of toys, the ability and desire to play by himself for hours on but the most obvious of all was his lack of speech. I had voiced my concerns to his pediatrician who referred me to two different specialists. The first had been for a hearing test which came back with perfect results. On my visit to the second specialist I described the signs I had observed in my son and again shared my concerns.

After listening to me he went on to give me his medical opinion on the possible causes and then he said the word ‘AUTISM.’ I had never before in my life heard the word. I was confused, curious, and a bit fearful but still hoping for the best. I told myself this wasn’t a formal diagnosis but just a medical opinion on what could possibly be the cause of my son’s lack of speech. I was advised to have him fully evaluated to rule out or confirm the possibility of autism.

This medical opinion on the possible cause of my son’s lack of speech prompted and fueled my research of the word ‘autism’. The more I read about it the more fearful, anxious and worried I became but I was still hopeful. I was hopeful that this would turn out to be a phase that my child was going through or that he was just slow in talking but not autism, NOT this strange and new world that I had begun to learn about.

After a few months the day of my son’s evaluation had finally arrived. He was now two and a half years old. I remember walking in to see a psychologist who would observe him at play, interact with him, have me fill out questionnaires and ask me a series of questions. The more questions she asked me the more it seemed she was describing my son as if she had known him. She asked,

“Does he look you in the eye when you talk to him?”

“Does he answer to his name when you call him?”

“Does he try to say any words?”

“Does he show the desire to play with other kids or interact with others?”

Unfortunately the answer to most of these questions was NO. My fears instantly increased. At the end of the evaluation, the diagnosis for which I had long waited and fearfully but hopefully anticipated, had arrived and confirmed my worst fears.