Peek-a-Boo

A little game of peek-a-boo can prove to be an emotinal challenge. When Aidan initiates, usually in the car when I go to unbuckle him, it evokes different emotions. I always laugh because it is fun and he is laughing too. But I also get upset because it doesn't last long and he usually retreats back into his own world. A world I so desperately want to understand and be a regular part of.

I need to get past the depression and start hanging onto the little moments. The peek-a-boo moments don't happen too often, but when they do, they are sweet. My goal is to cherish the good times more and not retreat into my own little world. A world of grief and depression that no person should ever have to deal with.

Lost Childhood

I can't help but think that Aidan has lost the chance to have a normal childhood. Will he even remember any of his childhood? Will it have been exciting and fun? Will it have been painful and frustrating? I have a hard time internalizing that he will have a new kind of normal for his childhood experience. Although he seems happy and content, I am not. I cannot stop thinking of all the things he should be doing. The worst part is that I don't even know if he is understanding anything that goes on around him. Just what does he remember? Being non-verbal, I may never know. It's a hard pill to swallow, but I need to try and move on. Easier said than done, unfortunately.

The Diagnosis

Our little man, Aidan, was diagnosed at 2 years of age with Pervasive Developmental Disoirder/Not Otherwise Specified (PDD/NOS). His Autism diagnosis was truly shocking to us. We knew he was in need to speech therapy, but we didn't see any other issues. He ate well (better than the 4-year old that's for sure), slept well, never threw a temper tantrum, and was (still is) a happy little guy. And then we had the evaluations that changed it all. How did we miss that he rarely turned his head when we called his name? How did we not realize that he didn't understand us when we asked him to bring us his cup? How did we not realize that if there was a group of family members and we asked him to go to Grandpa that he wouldn't do it? How did we not see all of this?

We didn't see it because we have two other kids besides him. Shawn is 4 and Aidan has a twin, Michaela. Anyone who has a girl can attest to the fact that they can advance at a very quick rate. A lot quicker than boys. Well, that was her. So when she asked for milk, we gave it to all of them. When she asked for a snack, we gave it to all of them because they are all on the same eating schedule. So it just made sense that the other two would be hungry too. So essentially we enabled the poor little guy. We did ask about his speech deficit when he was 18-months we were greeted with the same answer most parents would get from their pediatrician. He has two things going against him. He is a boy and he is a twin. Clearly, Michaela has set the bar too high for her brother, but we should have noticed his issues earlier. Who knows where he would be if we would have started his services 6-months prior. Something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

So here we are. He gets ABA five days a week, twice a day (this is 9-months now). He has definitely improved, but nothing like we would have hoped for. Well, I should say that it is nothing that I WOULD HAVE hoped for. Most people in our family are in somewhat of a denial. The "oh, he'll be fine" is optomistic, but not realistic. No one really knows what the future holds Aidan. Taking it one day at a time is truly what we do. Hoping and wanting for something...a word, eye contact, playing with his siblings...anything. In essence, I am hoping for a miracle.

So how did the title for this blog come about? The last thing his Psychologist said before leaving after we got the autism diagnosis was - "I'm not telling you this because I like you, and I'm not telling you this because I want to make you feel better, but I believe Aidan will do very well." He went on to say that he would rather over diagnose than underdiagnose, and it was Aidan's job to prove him wrong. It's probably the only profession where you WANT to be wrong every single time you make a diagnosis of Autism. We need to prove him wrong is right. So game on little man....