T-dog

 

Theo was the easiest, calmest, quietest baby and toddler--like almost to the point where we were like, "What is with this kid sitting still for 3 hours at church?" Eventually it developed that he was unable to talk beyond a few words, and he finally started talking in tentative, choppy sentences when he was an older 3, 4ish years old. 

Around his third birthday he started getting services from the public school system as part of his "developmental delay." He eventually went daily to a public special ed preschool, which we loved. He went into mainstream kindergarten and after six months of testing and talking and observing: although he doesn't have a medical diagnosis, the paperwork for the services he gets at the school is now labeled "Autism." That probably wouldn't surprise anyone who really knows Theo. His pediatrician has never said anything about autism but she sees him once a year for about 10 minutes. I think the school psychologist, social worker, guidance counselor, principal, special ed teacher, and regular ed teacher that all know him and talk to him every day, probably have a better idea. 

When I first met with the psychologist several weeks ago and she sort of "broke the news" to me about the recommended new label of autism, I felt complete relief. Like finally there could be a reason for Theo's behavior other than my subpar parenting. Like finally I could stop breaking down in tears when his teacher told me about yet another "bad day." Fortunately, the professionals who work with him are just wonderful people, especially his teacher. She has even cried along with me before. I'm lucky enough to see her and chat with her every day when I pick him up from school. I'm lucky enough just to have her in Theo's life.

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to post about it once to put my thoughts out there, not make it into a huge deal because autism is this sort of fluid thing anyway, and he is really "high-functioning" (buzzword). The label is mainly for figuring out how we can best help him. I'm not interested in making it a label that I always say when describing him, for instance. There's a lot of interesting (to me) literature out there about "autism spectrum disorder" (which is what all autism-related disorders are about to be changed to officially by mental health pros), although most of the studies and articles I have read I can't link to here because I got to them through databases I use at work. 

We live in an area with wonderful benefits and services for school-aged kids and Theo goes to a really top-notch public school. We weren't even thinking about this kind of thing when we moved here seven years ago, and I feel like we hit the elementary-school lottery. I'm not saying he's reading chapter books or knows the times tables; I'm saying that here is a kid who doesn't know how to join in on games in the playground, or how to gulp and move on when the class has to go to an assembly instead of having P.E. But rather than being thrown into the deep end alone to have tantrums and get into fights, he has professionals who know who he is and are helping him figure out how to handle those seemingly minor things on his own in an appropriate way. There are a few things we will change about Theo's education and other activities, like structured social "practice," but nothing huge. He has none of the "stereotypy" (buzzword) like tiptoeing or arm-flapping or refusal to eat or other really obvious things that are a big disruption. Most visibly, he "perseverates" (buzzword) which is basically fixate/obsess. And he has a pretty tough time socially. We joke sometimes that all the tantrums and fights we deal with now are the ones we didn't have to deal with when he was a toddler. (yep. funny.)

Sometimes I wish we didn't have this to deal with, like maybe we could have some peace and quiet when Theo is home, maybe not be stressed about setting up playdates or wonder whether he is going to seriously hurt Ida if I leave them alone for a few minutes, or wonder whether he will find a friend on the playground or if he'll agonize over not connecting with anyone. (We used to wonder if he minded not being able to play with other kids at their level--now we know he minds.) Wonder whether one of us will have to drag him out of sacrament meeting as he makes a huge scene--something he never did as a baby; not surprisingly, it's unflattering on a 6-year-old and the kid is strong. He stayed home from school recently with pinkeye and he and I spent several hours together, just us. Any time I am alone with him he is so pleasant and really a joy to be around. I'm like, "This is the real Theo!" So, I also joke about how if he was an only child and I homeschooled him, life would just be peachy. I guess life would be peachy for everyone if they lived in a bubble and never had to deal with the unpredictable world.

Other times, I feel such complete peace that this is who Theo is. Not only that, but these are trials for Theo--not as much for us--that I really feel he will be blessed to overcome, or at least live with and learn from and have a very happy, normal life. He is so sensitive, so sweet, so contemplative. I get lost in his dreamy brown eyes. He has the best expression on his face when he tells me about something he is proud of. He drifts off and has to be redirected all the time but I like to think that it's a calm and easy world that he drifts off into. He and I get so angry at each other sometimes, but I think all five of us are trying to figure out what we need to do to have peace at home with each other and with ourselves. 

As I tell all of my kids, and should probably tell myself, when things aren't going someone's way and they want to know why, "Because you're part of a family." Having to adjust to someone else's needs sometimes--or all the time--is the price we all pay for the love and companionship that everyone receives in our home, simply by living there. I know I'm willing to pay it. Almost always! (But really always.)