The Diagnosis

What we learned on Tuesday was not at all surprising yet it still jarred me. That last little hope I had that Ham was just going through a rough time and not in fact Autistic is now gone. I am officially the mother of an Autistic child who also has ADHD and a mood disorder.  

In a way it feels freeing to know that there is a reason for Ham's behaviors, that it is not my fault. My child has a disability, he is not "normal" and never will be. All of my expectations will have to be put aside until we can get a handle on how this diagnosis will affect our lives. 

There are so many options available to us now yet I feel that so much of it is out of our reach. The cost of therapy is just outrageous. It's sickening how much they charge for something that is so necessary. We are dealing with upwards of eighty dollars an hour until our insurance deductible is met. I have no idea how we are going to fit this into our budget. 

I want to do everything we can to help Ham get to where he needs to be. I have no idea how we are going to manage this. Apparently we make too much for assistance but not enough to afford much of anything without it. It really just sucks. 

The Birth of a Special Needs Parent

I tend to romanticize things especially when they're far off in the distance. I think we all do. When you're pregnant you fantasize about your baby and the Johnson and Johnson commercial moments you are going to share with them. I spent a large portion of my pregnancy stuck in the sheer fantasy of it all. There was so much to plan for, so much to buy. But slowly the magnitude of what was about to occur took hold and I found myself sinking into a depression. All that I had ever known was about to end. Gone were the blissful mornings of waking up to a silent house full of serenity. Shit was about to get real. 

I find myself in much the same place tonight as I await the news that will undoubtedly change my life and the vision I had for Ham's future. It's like we hit the forty-second week and there is no more holding it in. We will know the secret, the bliss of not knowing will be over. It will be painful and scary and new. I know that a recovery period will be in order for our family, but I have no idea what that will entail. Though Ham is the topic of conversation, the Hubs and I will need just as much help and guidance as he does. We will have to learn to parent him all over again. 

Part of me wishes I could linger in this day for awhile, let the calm sink in before it dissipates. I want to bask in my own ignorance and still allow myself to think that nothing is wrong. I want to look at Ham as a "normal" kid with "normal" problems. I'm not ready for reality.

This painful part is my transition from being a regular parent to a special needs parent. I can no longer ignore the voice in my head that says something is wrong. I must let it out. I have no choice. 

That feeling

Have you ever been told to go to the principal's office? Just knowing that a man (or woman) in a suit was sitting behind some ginormous wooden desk waiting to pounce was enough to make even the strongest child recoil in fear.

Have you ever sat in an exam room waiting for test results and the doctor comes in the room with that look on their face. They sit down feigning a smile and then proceed to seal your fate.

Have you ever seen those red and blue lights in your rear view mirror followed by the unmistakable police siren? You pull over with your sweaty hands at ten and two and your heart beating a mile a minute while you mentally replay the last six turns you made in your head.

That is the feeling that is beginning to blossom in the pit of my stomach. It started with a little bit of anxiousness and has spread to outright fear. I am afraid to know, but I am also afraid to remain in the darkness. Tuesday is our appointment with Ham's evaluating psychologist to get the results of his evaluation. It is at promptly 8am, which is the earliest appointment they had. I enlisted the Hubs to come with as I need support and want him to hear what she has to say. In two days we will know. 

Tonight we had to use the holds that Hubs learned in his brief stint working with the intellectually delayed in order to get Ham into his pajamas. We had to use a psych on our own child, our three year old child. Ham has the strength of a twelve year old most days and it scares the hell out of me. I have so many emotions welling up inside me. I just don't know what to do with them. I love him so much.