13 years ago, I gave birth to a little boy. His umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck but doctors had realised in time and had delivered him safely via caesarean section.
From early on, we knew he was different.
He was fretful.
He was super sensitive to all sounds and touches and temperatures and spent much of his first months simply screaming.
It was hectic.
It was stressful.
When he was 4 months old, I ran (sprinted!) back to my full time job to take refuge in work. I threw myself into projects and came up with any reasons I could to be away from home, where I felt so inept and out of control.
When he was 20 months, he went to play school, and we were quickly told by the teachers that his tantrums, hysteria, spitting, biting and general unhappiness told them that something was very wrong.
They referred us to an occupational therapist. This was the first time my husband and I started to hear terms like “sensory integration” or “sensory seeker” or “auditory defensiveness”… but it soon became clear that he was having a really hard time.
Therapy began and we learned new ways of being and interacting with our boy.
It was only when we had our daughter 2 years after he was born, that we realised just how much he had been struggling and that he was not neurotypical.
This dance of survival went on for a few years and things had (sort of) settled down … when “big school” (grade R) began.
He was at a prestigious all boys school and it became clear that he was not fitting in or coping. More referrals to a new occupational therapist, a play therapist, a child psychiatrist. And the long road of medication began.
Many people don’t medicate their children and I can understand why. We chose to follow the recommendations of our trusted professionals and did begin to medicate. But what we didn’t know is how much trial and error would be involved… the headaches, the meltdowns, the sore tummies and more.
Flash forward a few difficult years, we took the family decision to simplify our lives as much as possible as move out to the countryside, so both our children (especially our son) could have more time outside in nature and more opportunity for independent play.
When we moved, we needed to start again with new professionals and sought a new occupational therapist and a paediatric neurologist. The latter would have the most profound effect on our lives.
We walked into the neurologist’s office the first time and after about 3 minutes she said to me “You do understand that your son is autistic, don’t you?”
I had always known he was “different” (read difficult) but nobody had ever diagnosed him for us.
She went on to explain that he appears to have Asperger’s Syndrome. She totally changed his medications as she felt he had been incorrectly medicated for a number of years already and that was worsening the situation - and she was right.
Medication was changed.
School was stopped.
OT began again.
6 months of unschooling began.
3 years of remedial school unfolded. Reintegration into mainstream later happened.
Slowly but surely, we rediscovered our boy again. And he discovered himself.
Last night we attended his Grade 7 ”prom” which symbolises the end of his primary school journey. Next year he starts high school and a whole new adventure. He is popular, bright, well-liked, sporty and successful.
Through his trials and challenges, he has grown into the strongest, kindest, most resilient person you’ll ever meet. There is a magic about him which is tangible. This gift of autism, which at first I thought was a curse, has changed our lives for the better.
But it has been hard. I won’t lie.
For those of you walking a difficult road with your children, I wish you strength and love. I hope that one day you, too, will be able to look back and say “look how far we’ve come.”
Launch your Graphy