When my eldest child was 2, he was referred by an Asshole Pediatrician (do I sense a common theme among my doctors or what?) to Early Interventions for speech therapy.
He wasn’t talking, you see, and that coupled with his incredible love for the planets–which, I should add, the MD didn’t know about–made for a strange child. It took a couple months for a case worker to be assigned and ages after that to get the initial evaluations done, because like any state program, the need is greater than the ability to provide services.
When he was finally tentatively diagnosed with autism, I will be completely honest, I was relieved. It sounds weird, to be thankful my child has a disability, but it was the first thing about him that made sense to me.
My son had been rejecting me since he was born and my heart was not only broken, it was smashed to bits by his second birthday. He loved my mother, yes, but not me. If I never came back home, I promise you, he’d not have cared.
Ben and Mommy (colon) It’s Complicated.
He didn’t care for me, and while I’d like to say that it was because he sensed that I was an asshole, his brother certainly (still) cannot get enough of me. At some point I finally realized that it’s him, not me, that has the problem. But parents, of course, always blame themselves and it took years for me to be able to see that.
Ben was in therapy for years, many times a week, both speech and occupational, and it helped. My life isn’t a Lifetime Movie, where I’m played by Tori Spelling and Ben is played by that cute kid that I kinda wanted to strangle from Jerry Maguire, so you know that things still aren’t exactly normal, but they’re more…manageable.
Ben and Mom (Colon) It’s Still Complicated.
Today I owned up to my old demons and pushed the fucking denial aside and called to set up a caseworker for Amelia for Early Interventions.
I did it because it’s the right thing to do. Like it or not.
Maybe, like some of you suggested, her extra brain matter was just her Awesomeness being uncontainable in her skull. A sign of high intelligence. I like that explanation best, I think.
It’s the right thing to do. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.