The Beginning

"We are diagnosing him, but I think you were expecting it"

I nodded and smiled at the speech therapist as she looked back at us with a sympathetic look on her face. Ten minutes later we left, with a few leaflets in hand about "what to expect after diagnosis".

Let's rewind...

When I was pregnant with L,  I had a niggle that something wasn't going to be quite right. I put it down to me being a first time mum and just having typical worries. As the pregnancy progressed my feelings got stronger and I was sure something was going to be wrong when he was born. One morning whilst watching breakfast tv, I saw on the screen a teenage girl who had given birth to a baby with Down Syndrome. She had no idea and had dismissed her 1 in however many chance as most of us do. But as she said that morning "someone is always the one" and in this case it was her. I convinced myself that I would indeed be that one, that my baby would also be born with Down Syndrome. I wondered how my husband and family would react when our baby was born with the condition. He wasn't of course, but it didn't stop me checking him over after his birth - just in case the midwife had missed it. I checked the palm of his hands for a single crease, having googled the signs previously. My baby appeared to be healthy, but I still had this niggle. I didn't tell anyone about these fears and how I was feeling. I could almost picture the looks on peoples faces if I had to say these things out loud, they would surely think I was mad. Again, I just put it down to being a first time mum and that these were worries and fears most mums would have. We left the hospital the following day and I decided to put my fears to one side and enjoy my baby. He was here and he was healthy.

The months passed by quickly in a whirlwind of dirty nappies and sleepless nights. L wasn't much of a sleeper but I suppose most babies aren't. I remember speaking to a friend when L was 5 months old and her saying "he must surely be sleeping at night by now" and me fibbing and saying yes he was because I was too scared to say he wasn't as if it meant I was failing as a parent. My niggles were still there but I knew in time I would see all was well as I watched my baby boy grow and develop. We lived in a flat at this time and were beginning to look ahead and take steps to move to a house. We started talking about what areas we would like to live in, where were the good schools? The niggles continued "L might not go to mainstream school" I told myself. Why did I keep thinking this way?

Around the time of his first birthday, the niggles got stronger. But this time they weren't just niggles, there were signs something wasn't right. Little subtleties that anyone else would miss, but I saw them.  I asked myself if I was looking for things that weren't there. He seemed fine a lot of the time but when he was next to other children his own age I could see differences. Of course everyone will tell you not to compare children, that they are all different but there comes a point when the differences become palpable and you can't deny them any longer. I spoke to L's dad (S) about it but he didn't agree so I turned to google and started to search, trying to find out if the gut feeling I had from even before L was even born was right.

My stomach turned over as I kept coming back to the same thing. The same word kept appearing over and over. I felt physically sick as I read screen after screen describing my little boy. It couldn't be right. I wouldn't believe it. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. I knew it was true, finally it all made sense, but it was too horrendous to face.

L had autism.

I felt like my life had changed in an instant. I was propelled into a parallel universe where everything appeared to be the same, except it wasn't and it would never be the same again. I desperately wanted to go back to before, to find the door back to my old world, where everything was nice and rosy and special needs children were born to other people. But I couldn't find the door anywhere. It was gone. I was stuck here now, in this new world. In this new life.

The days and weeks that followed were a bit of a blur. I spent hours and hours online, spending every night into the early hours of the morning looking for more information. I went between knowing L had autism to convincing myself he didn't - he was too young, he was just immature, he would get there eventually (wherever 'there' is). I would often cry myself to sleep after reading stories of children locked in their own worlds, who never learn to talk, and who have violent outbursts towards their parents. I would wake in the morning and have those few seconds of bliss where I was unaware then the realisation would hit that it wasn't a nightmare. It was real. I spent many hours on special needs forums, asking other mums if my son had this condition. I was often sent links to a poem called "Welcome to Holland" - an analogy which compares having a healthy child to a fabulous trip to Italy and having a special needs child - where your journey takes an unexpected turn and you end up in Holland. I hated Holland. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be on the beach in Italy, building sand castles and eating my body weight in gorgeous Italian ice cream. That's where I should be. That's where I was supposed to be. S refused to talk about it, he didn't believe it so I spoke to my mum often about it - she was the only other person who saw what I saw and she probably stopped me from going mad back then.

Many, many appointments ensued. Paediatricians, speech therapists, support workers, all working with L and giving their ten pence worth. And finally, at the ripe old age of 4, L was  diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. The last 3 years have been emotional to say the least. It's been a long journey and there have been many tears - and I'm sure I will shed many more along the way. But things are different now. The sadness and anxiety from 3 years ago has lifted. My beautiful baby has grown into a beautiful boy who is smart, funny and a joy to be around. Autism is just a little part of him and it's a part of all of us. I'm not the same person I was when he was born. Motherhood changes you anyway, and being a mummy to a special little person changes you even more. L is teaching me more about life than I could ever teach him and I appreciate so much now - I'm learning what life is all about and it's all thanks to him and a little thing called autism.