(un)diagnosed

This week we visited the peadiatrician for the second time. We spent nearly two hours with her in her office. I had had some concerns about the Bean's behaviours, his emotional reactions, his development at kinder and his constant colds. I figured a full scale check up and re-address of concerns earlier looked at might give some insight into what was going down.

She is 'fairly certain' that my son has Asperger Syndrome. He has some more assessments to do before a comprehensive diagnosis can be made. Speech pathologists and childhood psychologists to see, a hearing test next week and many more appointments with all of the above to attend to over the rest of his life, I can only assume.

And I'm ok. Because he's ok.

The doctor said that he is thriving because I'm strict with him. Because he has routines. Because I explain what's happening and where we're going and what we're doing before we do it. Because he eats well. Because he has security and stability and consistency in his life.

Because maybe my parenting is reflective of my instincts about his needs. Or maybe because my needs are similar.

He is high functioning. He is hilarious. He is quirky and eccentric. He has focused interests. He can talk 'til the cows come home about whatever it is that he is interested in.

But we've known that from the start.

Dinosaurs. Sharks. Cars. Dragons. Trains. Spaceships. Books.

And he will need social skills training, Occupational Therapy, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, speech therapy, intervention (And I'm not really sure what that even means, will we need to write him a letter and read it out loud to tell him our feelings???)

But I am relieved.

And some people don't understand this relief. Or don't believe the diagnosis. I spoke to his kinder teacher and asked if I was jumping on the latest band wagon to excuse poor behaviour (read the over-diagnosis and medication of ADHD judgment poring out of me). She said that she and I are the ones who spend the most amount of time with him. We see the reactions. We experience the over-reactions. We try to calm down the tears. We try to encourage the skills. We try to encourage relationships. We try to understand the way his brain works. Others are trying to support me and for that I thank them.

But I am relieved.

It has all been given a name. It means that there is learning I can do. That I can find more efficient ways to communicate with him. That he can hopefully live a fairly 'normal' life, although normal is not what I really want for him. Extraordinary. Adventurous. Exciting. They're the adjectives I want for him.

And he is already all of those things.

So we'll be good.

Things The Bean has said:

1. My mum gave the Bean a Human Body book, filled with heaps of facts and pictures and transparent layers. (It's kinda gross)
TB: Mama, what's this? (Points to organs page)
Me: It's your liver.
TB: Mama, my liver is very sore and it makes me fall over.

2. We've been watching/working on the school musical in the past few weeks.
Me (singing and dancing the tap dance parts - in my ugg boots)
TB: Please don't dance like that Mama, you haven't got pat shoes on.