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Let me introduce you to my son, who is nothing short of extraordinary. He is the sweetest, cleverest, most stunning little bundle of joy I have ever known. I’ve been his mom for 22 delightful months (though my husband shares the parental duties, giving him credit for half the toddler charm), and this journey of motherhood has been everything I dreamed of and nothing like the fears I once harbored. I am overflowing with happiness.
Yet, this precious child also brings me a level of anxiety I’ve never known. The stress from exams, recovering from an eating disorder, and juggling two jobs pales in comparison to the constant worry that fills my mind these days.
Of course, my son is not to blame. He does nothing wrong. However, I must admit, for the first time publicly, that we have concerns he might be on the autism spectrum. Processing this idea is quite challenging for me.
I completely understand that a child can’t receive a definitive diagnosis until they reach at least 2 years of age. Our developmental pediatrician has made it clear that he is simply too young for an accurate assessment. Therefore, we await our next appointment, just after his second birthday, to explore and potentially understand his challenges.
So here we are, in a holding pattern, anticipating the autism diagnosis.
Please don’t misconstrue this as overreacting or projecting my fears onto my innocent child. This two-month wait stems from 22 months of careful observation and bonding with my son. Our path to developmental pediatrics was not a coincidence, nor were my countless hours of researching the topic just a whim.
My son isn’t talking yet. He doesn’t point or wave. He has reached every developmental milestone late, not taking his first steps until 17 months. His behavior often revolves around repetition; he flicks light switches on and off and opens and closes cupboard doors repeatedly. Making eye contact isn’t his strong suit, and he tends to prefer solitary play over interaction with me—except when he wants to read, in which case we revisit the same book multiple times.
Naturally, none of this definitively indicates he is on the spectrum. He might just be uniquely quirky, much like his parents. However, when I examine these traits collectively, they raise concerns. They were enough to prompt me to consult a developmental pediatrician and address a topic I struggled to confront for months.
And now we wait for whatever is to come.
In the meantime, I yearn for connection. I want to reach out for support, guidance, and camaraderie, but I also feel compelled to let others in similar situations know they are not alone. It can feel isolating to stand on the brink of special needs, desperately seeking a glimpse of what lies ahead. I find myself comparing my son to his peers, hesitating to respond to inquiries about his speech and development, all while curating a perfect Facebook image of my child, even as I nervously bite my nails while posting updates.
Despite my best efforts, I can’t help but let my mind spiral, replaying the same what-if scenarios. Will he need specialized preschool? Will he attend classes with other mainstream children? What will college look like? What about his life as an adult?
It’s enough to drive anyone to madness, and the only remedy I know is to write. I write to clarify my thoughts, to share our story, and to shed light on our journey for anyone navigating the shadows of worry for their child.
However, no discussion of this topic would be complete without acknowledgment of the redeeming qualities of my son and the unconditional love I have for him. He exhibits incredible intelligence, and I am endlessly enamored by him. He is a problem-solver, quickly figuring out new toys and situations. He laughs and cries appropriately and has even started giving me sweet little kisses. He has learned to communicate his needs without verbal speech and has even stopped being overly aggressive with our cat while trying to pet her. His wonderful traits reassure me that he is developing a unique personality, ethos, and sense of belonging within our family.
And love? We have it in abundance. If the wait leads to the diagnosis I suspect, it won’t change how we nurture him. We will continue to provide all the resources he needs to thrive and lead a fulfilling life. We’ll advocate for him, challenge him, and remind him daily how proud we are.
Because he is perfect. Just as he is. Diagnosis or not. While the waiting is excruciating, it doesn’t dictate our future.
If you find yourself in a similar situation, waiting for an autism diagnosis, take heart. Your family will persevere. You will be okay. You’ll do what’s necessary for your child, just as all parents strive to do, and you will emerge on the other side. Focus on the love, and everything else will naturally fall into place. At least, that’s my plan… while we wait.
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Summary:
This piece delves into the emotional journey of a mother awaiting an autism diagnosis for her son. She shares the joys and anxieties of parenting, the challenges of observing developmental milestones, and the longing for community support. Ultimately, she emphasizes unconditional love and commitment to her child’s well-being, regardless of the diagnosis.