My son’s diagnosis

​Autism from a mama who has been there. I am going to try to post every day this month. Please feel free to ask questions in the comments.

Early days: 

Right after my son’s diagnosis, his psychologist called me out. He told me that I had given up. And until that moment I hadn’t realized that that is precisely what I had done. I was just surviving and trying to keep him alive. I didn’t have the time or the energy for anything else. My first job as a mama with a child on the spectrum was to work on me. Because if I’m not up to the challenge, who would be? 

I had to put on my big girl panties and gird up my loins. My son’s psychologist helped me grow in confidence by giving me the tools and education I would need to help my son. I knew I had a partner. That made me stronger.

I had to learn a new language. I called it a concrete language—exact meaning: no metaphors, no ambiguities, no interpretation. “Put away your shoes,” means nothing except shoes. “Put your shoes on the shelf in the closet in your room.” Boom owned it.

I had to recognize that he was going to have different rules than the ones I used with the rest of the children. And I had to help them understand why.

I had to be willing to drop what I was doing because consequences and rewards had to be immediate. 

I had to decide which hills were worth dying on and what things I could let go.

I had to teach my other children that this “unfair” thing was our new reality and that we needed to work together. I have to say that they surprised me with their acceptance, flexibility, and love. They taught me more than they will ever know.

Celebrate the small stuff. Be flexible. Laugh.