Diagnosis Day

As you know, I’ve submitted several of my blog pieces to The Mighty; when I submitted the last piece, along with the e-mail saying they were publishing the selected work, they sent a challenge. “If you could go back to the day you (or a loved one) got a diagnosis, what would you tell yourself?”  Fortunately, I’ve been blogging for quite a while and could go back and see the thoughts and feelings I was having during that particular period.

For us, diagnosis was not a surprise.  We’d long asked our pediatricians about Autism. Big Brudder was our first babe, but he was not our first experience being around children.  From the earliest moments, it was obvious he was different than other babies we’d been around. We thought a lot of the differences could be attributed to his cleft lip and palate, the fact that his mom and dad are both a bit quirky, and that he was an only child at that point. By the time he was three, I was certain that Big was on the spectrum, but he was already receiving speech and occupational therapy for food aversions and his cleft lip and palate.  We wouldn’t have added any other services, so I was comfortable with forging along with out diagnosis. I had found lots of online information regarding sensory processing disorder and found much help and comfort in learning.

Preschool came and went and he did well.  By kindergarten, I KNEW we had to do something, but he spent 45 days of that year sick and out of school.  In October of 2011, I spoke with the school psychologist for the first time and asked for a formal assessment. In December we received our formal diagnosis. I’ll never forget.  We took the boy out of his martial arts class, explaining to the teacher that we were going to take some time to focus on therapies again, but that we hoped at a later time we’d be back. I got my first apology for this diagnosis. I was no stranger to apologies;  after all, our son was also born with a birth difference. But this one hit me in the gut.

I took to the internet and finally joined Facebook! I expected to find community. Belonging. Moms welcoming me with open arms and warm hearts. On January 5, 2012 this is what I blogged:

“I don’t quite know what I expected when we received the asperger’s diagnosis. Perhaps, community? Understanding? Peace? I don’t know. It’s hard to feel part of a community when there is so much division and anger. One group says you aren’t autistic enough to be here…you don’t know our struggles. No I don’t. But, you don’t know our struggles, either. I mean this on the human level. How many of us know what it is like to walk in another’s shoes? None. Yes, my son is verbal. Yes, my son is gifted. But, you don’t see his ulcers from the anxiety he holds inside. You don’t see him when he has spent hisday struggling to contain stimms. You don’t see him when he is sad because he feels as if he has no friends. As HUMANS, we all want love and understanding. Because I speak of asperger’s it does not mean I do not want care about the autism spectrum at large. I do. I speak of what I know. Just as someone who writes about breast cancer doesn’t seek to diminish leukemia. We are all doing our best to navigate this world and form community. Perhaps, I look in the wring places. Perhaps community is closer than “message boards” websites and blogs. Perhaps, I need to forge a community of my own…”

Do you see that last sentence? “Perhaps, I need to forge a community of my own…”  That’s exactly what I did first by creating a closed Facebook group, which I still have. It is full of the most amazing, supportive, phenomenal women I’ve never known. We laugh at ourselves, whine, complain, cheer for each other and our children.  It is the single best Autism related thing I’ve ever done for myself. The second step, was starting the public Facebook page AutismInOurHouse.  I started by sharing my blog, which forced me to write in a new way, a more in-depth perspective.  By doing this, I’ve gained more insight into my thoughts.  The more I write them, the more I think about them and am able to sort and work through them. My final step into finding this community that has saved my life and my sanity more than once is writing our picture book.  In taking on this project, I’ve gained a larger circle of writer friends.  It began as networking – a way to grow my audience.  My oh my, it is so, so much more. It has just broadened my community.

Back to the original prompt:  If I could go back to diagnosis day, I’d tell myself, “Do exactly what you are feeling the NEED to do. Find your people.”  No matter the diagnosis one receives, no one understands like the people who are walking the same path. Even the same path has different pebbles and stones for each walker, but nothing replaces knowing the person you are talking to, even via private message on Facebook, “gets it.” Nothing. Go. Find your people.


3 thoughts on “Diagnosis Day”

  1. You directive to “find your people” IS the command of the century. I’ve worked as a home care professional for over thirty years coming to the Spectrum family slowly, over time, in different situations. I don’t really know how they became “my people” (OK mostly the Small Persons…could just be that I’m not that grown up, myself), and I am glad that I have been able to bring any extra light into their dawn.and the continuing morning of their families.
    Thanks for bring more voice to My People


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