It started with occupational therapy for Joe. He’s getting to big for me to wrestle around when the tantrums kick in. I wanted some basic therapy holds that I could use other than laying on top of him while he regains control of himself.
The tantrums are getting fewer and further between, don’t get me wrong.
But they’re still there.
And? Totes MY KID. Once we get there, cranky is no longer an adjective. It’s a verb. A gigantic rawring muscle-clenching MUST SMASH verb.
So we go for the evaluation and get assigned a weekly appointment. After he gets comfortable with the process, Dan decided he wanted to participate as well. And as I watched him move around, I realized…he needs his own appointment too.
Oh hai Momguilt! Hadn’t seen you for oh gosh five whole minutes? Something like that.
Call the ped, get the referral, have the evaluation. Set the appointment. He came out of his first appointment with two recommendations. A GI consult for his tummy issues, and a consult with a developmental pediatrician.
Developmeeeennnnttaaaaaaalll. The word echoes through the brain, ricocheting from “but he’s quite functional” to “whoah, you REALLY missed that one.”
Relief from the guilt wouldn’t come for another few weeks, when I read that Autism Diagnosis can vary greatly by site, clinician. (It does make sense that some of the diagnoses would be subjective. We’re only human, after all.)
My schedule is about to get a lot more full, I think…