I finally went to the doctor today after what has seemed like months of being sick off and on. I had to take Isaac with me because Andrew was at work. I could tell it was going to be a struggle when he kept grabbing the office's door knob and saying, "help, I'm stuck!" Today has been one of those days where Isaac seems to be more in his own world than in reality. He was grumpy from the minute I picked him up from school. His teacher sent home a book titled, Just be nice...and say you're sorry! and a less than praiseworthy report sheet. These are the kinds of things that leave me in detective mode- wondering if his body still isn't rid of the cheerios he ate last week or if his yeast is up or if being sick is causing him to not be himself.
We were, as always, waiting longer than expected to get into the doctor. He was bouncing between being nervous and being hyper. He was not having good listening. He kept laying on the floor. When the doctor came in he was talking to himself and using character names instead of real names. He had no sense of personal space and just about climbed in her lap to get to her computer. After the third time of trying this after being told not to, my doctor looked at me and asked, "Is he...?" I just said, "PDD-NOS...on the spectrum...yeah." While I like to tell myself that other people don't notice that he's quirky, or if they do, that they just chalk it up to him being three- Doctors. Always. Notice. And it always sucks when they do. My heart sinks like my secret is out. Not that it is a secret. I'm not embarrassed that he is on the spectrum, but I've lied to myself enough to think that other people really don't notice. It's not for my sake that I don't want them to notice- I'm the first to tell people about it, but it's for his. Because I know one day people won't think his quirks are so cute anymore. And they'll judge. I know we're getting closer to that day.
We left the office to go get my prescription. While putting him in his car seat, Isaac looked up at the sky and said, "Look! People!" I told him they were clouds in the sky. He repeated me, but then said, "Look! People in the sky!" I shrugged. Who knows what he really sees? I'm starting to realize just how different things must look to him. He has a totally different nervous system and brain than "normal" kids. It was 3pm. His singing for speech class would be starting in a half hour. My need-to-be-in-control brain was trying to push this little boys limits. He looked tired and not himself, but I was still determined to get him to that class after picking up my medicine. After that doctor's inquiry my "fix it" mom mode was kicked into high gear. He would go to speech class. He would learn to talk "normally". People wouldn't notice so much. We pulled into Meijer and I called my dad. I just had to tell someone what that doctor asked about my baby, and how it made me feel. "It's just hard. When he's like this, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him get back in balance." I sobbed. Dad gave his usual calming "I know." I said goodbye and hung up to go into the store. I turned around to look at Isaac. He was sound asleep in his car seat. I sighed. This boy didn't need singing class. He needed a nap so that he can get over this cold. He had been up since 6am. So we went home instead.
He's napping. I'm blogging. It's been something I've wanted to do for a long time, but haven't until now. I didn't want people to think I felt sorry for myself or that I was complaining. But I think part of going through the process of accepting that your kid is different, and that it's going to be a long and windy road takes talking about it. My poor dad has been my sounding board for the past 3 years. It's time to give him a break, and give other people a chance to read the day to day of one mom's journey with a quirky kid.
