Two Years Later

Two years ago today was the hardest day of my life.

Two years ago today we sat in the doctor’s office for hours with our tiny little boy. I have never been more afraid. I have never prayed harder. But despite all my praying and hoping and wishing, the doctor still said the words I didn’t want him to say: I think your son may have autism.

What a journey these past two years have been – a journey through the depths of fear and anxiety, through loneliness and depression, gut-wrenching sadness and heartache, but also a journey through hope, through perseverance, through acceptance, through triumph. The journey has changed me. I am not the same woman who walked in to that doctor’s office two years ago.  Regardless of what people may say, I am not stronger. My faith is not bigger. No, I am more broken, less in control, more transparent and quicker to acknowledge my weaknesses. I am more intimately acquainted with heartache and more empathetic towards others who are suffering. I have fewer friends, but the friendships that have survived are deeper and more meaningful.  I understand better the meaning of sacrifice and laying down your life for someone you love. The single greatest blessing that has come out of this journey is that I am more aware than ever of my own neediness – my need for community, my need for help, my need for support, my need for mercy, my need for a Savior.  Nothing in my life has robbed me of my self-sufficiency like the journey through an autism diagnosis, coming to the end of myself and realizing that I cannot do this alone, and more importantly, that I wasn’t meant to do it alone.

As for Jude, what an amazing two years he’s had. In his initial evaluation the psychologist reported that he was moderately to severely delayed in every domain. As a parent, that was a painful report to read. Today, our 3 year old is reading almost fluently – a skill that he picked up within minutes and almost entirely on his own, at THREE years old. He is doing math in his head that would challenge most first graders. He memorizes phenomenal amounts of information, and he notices every detail. He attends a typical preschool, where he participates and follows directions beautifully and plays happily with his friends. He is fully engaged and uses words appropriately to express his feelings, and he is secretly a favorite among almost all the teachers. He is sweet and gentle and kind. He is social and friendly and empathetic. He is imaginative and witty, and he makes us laugh every day. He is not the same kid he was 2 years ago – afraid and overwhelmed. Now he is brave and confident, and I really believe he can conquer anything.

So the question remains, and it’s a question I hear often: Does he really have autism? The best answer I can give is “I don’t know.” We may never know. He may never fit neatly in to any tidy category. He undoubtedly still has challenges, and he has several spectrum-like tendencies. His development cannot be described as “typical”, but “delayed” is no longer a word that describes him either. Different, perhaps. Special. Reserved. Observant. Cautious. Structured. Brilliant. Remarkable. Is it autism? Maybe. Does it matter? Not really. I realize that as he begins school he will probably need some sort of label in order to access certain resources, but the label doesn’t change who he is. To us, he’s just Jude, and he is amazing. And you can’t put a label on amazing.

To read last year's post on the one-year anniversary of the diagnosis, click here