Drained

What a week.

I don't even know where to begin.

At the beginning, perhaps?

Unbeknownst to me at the time, this story actually begins on the evening of May 29th, so that would probably be a good place to start.

I was at the computer, as is often the case after the kids are in bed, and was searching specifically for more information regarding speech delays in toddlers. We've been concerned for a while now about Meghan's limited vocabulary, but especially so after visiting with our two year old nephew last month. So, at some point during this cyber quest, I came upon a page regarding Autism Spectrum Disorders, and as I scrolled down through the page, one particular paragraph seemed to leap right off the screen at me:

"Some children and older individuals spend a lot of time repeatedly flapping their arms or walking on their toes...Repetitive behavior sometimes takes the form of a persistent, intense preoccupation."

I couldn't believe it! A sickening sensation of dread snaked it's way up through my belly and gripped my heart, rendering me slack jawed and speechless as tears sprang to my eyes. Numbly, I got up from my chair and silently summoned Darren, who was watching TV in a different room.

"Babe," I commanded, ushering him into my vacated seat. "Read this. It's as though somebody has written exactly about Dylan!"

Holy cow.

In a dizzying rush, every quirky little "habit" that Dylan has exhibited since toddlerhood came speeding to the forefront of my mind. The way he hops up and down and "flaps" when he's really excited; his near constant toe walking that had me resorting to threats ("Stop walking on your toes or you'll ruin your feet! Do you want to end up needing surgery to fix your bones?"); his tendency towards meltdowns when he's angry or frustrated; his intense focus on drawing; his need to have a pile of books stacked just so at his bedside every night...

All at once, it was as though many pieces of what I hadn't even realized was a puzzle (this was simply our life) fell neatly into place. I was stunned, to say the least. The more we read, the more convinced Darren and I became that we'd be doing Dylan a great disservice if we didn't at least have him evaluated further. The next day, Darren called our pediatrician's office and arranged an appointment with their behavorial health specialist.

We met with her on Monday, and, after a series of questions and observations, she agreed that Dylan most likely has "a high functioning form of autism called Asperger's Syndrome." She has made a referral to an Autism Diagnostic Center in Albuquerque, and immediately after leaving her office, we headed to the nearest bookstore and bought The Everything Parent's Guide To Children With Asperger's Syndrome and The Asperger's Answer Book. One of our dearest friends came over that night and loaned us her copy of Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's. I haven't read it yet but Darren is devouring it. I'm working my way through the first two, fluctuating alternately between varying degrees of optimism and disappointment. We've got a lot to think about.

In other news--yesterday, we had an in-home evaluation (by a private nonprofit organization) of Meghan's speech and cognitive and motor abilities, which was actually a very fun and enlightening experience. Darren and I had met with an outreach coordinator at their offices yesterday morning and were quite impressed with the friendly, family oriented services they provide. And based on their findings, Meghan does display a ">25% delay in the area of expressive speech" (although all other areas scored, including receptive language, problem solving, social, and motor skills, were right on target for her age). Their recommendation is weekly, one hour speech therapy sessions to encourage verbal imitation, which (I think) can also be held in our home. I'm excited. I can't wait to get started!

Also noteworthy: my mom and her husband flew back home to Florida this morning. I cried a thousand tears last night in great gulping, silent sobs, leaving me with a monster headache and red scratchy, swollen eyes. Yep... I'm a wreck! I can't even think about her leaving without that horribly empty feeling of loneliness creeping back in. So, okay! Enough of that! Mom, I miss you terribly already. I missed you even before you were gone.

Friday night will be my first night back to work since Kristen's birth. But I've been away for so long (12 weeks) and spent so much time up there in a non-official capacity while Kristen was in the nursery that I'm afraid it will feel very weird to return as an employee. Not to mention, I've gotten very used to this whole not working thing and I'm sad to go back. And I hate the thought of leaving Kristen, even though it will only be for six hours at night when she and everyone else will be sleeping. And...never mind, enough with my whining.

Work will be fine, Kristen will be fine, we're fine, everything will be fine...

...If I repeat it enough, do you think I'll start to believe it?