Christmas

Haven't been on here for a while.  The kids are on holidays, and tend to take up my computer time, and although I know I can do this on my phone, I don't know how to, and can't figure it out.  Oh well!  We had a lovely Christmas this year.  I was so proud of my son.  We went to our brother and sister-in-laws place, and although there were many people he knew, there was one man he hadn't met at all before.  My son shook his hand when offered, and said Merry Christmas too him!  I was quite amazed, and very proud.  He said Merry Christmas to most people there, and was polite and quiet for most of the time.  He didn't eat anything, but seemed happy.  I took him home after about three hours, and he had pizza for his tea, which made him very happy.  Overall, a very succesful day for my boy.

Grade Three

I want to share a story from his grade 3 year.  His teacher that year was one of his best, and Michael really blossomed under him.  The whole class was good for him that year, and he really enjoyed himself.

One afternoon, when picking Michael up, his teacher told me the story of what had occurred that day.  They had had a maths test that day.  Now maths happens to be Michael's best subject.  He has a great knowledge of all things numbers, and it is definitely one of his strengths.  He doesn't like writing however.  He has low muscle tone in his limbs, quite common with autism, which can make writing hard and tiring.  10 minutes writing for a child with low muscle tone, can be equivalent to 40 minutes for a child with normal strength.

So, this particular day, Michael was in the middle of this test, and he decides he needs a break.  The desks had all been arranged in testing style.  Michael hops out of his desk, and proceeds to look at every single child's work.  Offering suggestions here and there, but basically just sticky-beaking!

Now, did anyone try and stop him, or tell him off?  Of course not!  The teacher actively encouraged it, and the students all moved when he came by so he could have a better view!  If any other child had tried this, they would have been disciplined and sent back to their seat.  But not Michael!  No one even thought of trying to curb it!  No one resented this either.  None of the children seem to mind that in some things, Michael gets treated differently.  It seems to be just a part of who his is to them.

This nurturing environment has been just wonderful for Michael.  It may make some aspects of high school and beyond a bit tougher, but I firmly believe that the more secure a child is early on (any child), the more confident and able they will be later in life.  We shall see in the next few years if I am correct I suppose!

Guilt

It amazes me the amount of guilt we put upon ourselves as mothers, parents, or just people.  I have constantly battled emotions within myself which can tear me down, and make me paralyzed in what I'm doing.  It's all those 'what if' or 'if only' statements.

IF ONLY I had taken better care of myself while pregnant!
IF ONLY I wasn't close to having gestational diabetes!
IF ONLY I hadn't given him that drop of milk when he was three months or so, and he hadn't had that allergic reaction!
WHAT IF I had noticed earlier that his babbling development wasn't progressing enough!
IF ONLY I had made him be better!
WHAT IF we had spent more time with him, loved him more, held him more!

The list is endless.

Should we have got him into intense therapy earlier?  Would it have helped or put too much pressure on him?
How affected was he by that illness he had at around two?  The one that I didn't notice until we needed to go to hospital?

Could I have done anything, been anything, be doing anything different, that would make my son not have autism?  How many things can I possibly feel guilty for?

In the end, these feelings of guilt, I have to shake them off.  NOTHING I do now can change what happened in the past.  I can only do the best with what I have, with who I am.  I don't know exactly why my son, or any child for that matter has autism.  There is no known cause, just as there is no real cure.  I shouldn't feel guilty for trusting my gut, and doing what I believe is best for my child.  No one knows my child better than me, and I am currently his advocate when dealing with the world.  Every parent wants to protect there child.  When your child is not quite the same as another, those feelings of protection seem to intensify.

I still battle with guilt, even if when I'm rational I realise its unjustified.  But I no longer let it paralyse me.  Journeying with autism has made me a stronger person.  Able to stand up and defend not only my son, but myself.  I wouldn't wish autism on anyone, but I wouldn't trade who I am today with who I was before I started this journey.

Stephen Wiltshire

We were fortunate enough in our city of Brisbane to have Stephen Wiltshire come and do a fly over and drawing of our fair city.  I took my daughter in so we could go and have a look at him as he was doing it.  He was quite amazing.

I was very interested in the way he was holding his pencil while we watched him.  It is an unusual grip, but it is very similar to the way my son holds his pencil.  It's made me think about it a lot over the last few days.  We have put a lot of effort into changing our sons pencil grip so that it is more 'normal'.  It has all been by encouragement and exercises, not force.  But I've begun to wonder if this attitude of "everyone must hold a pencil just so" will become how we view forcing people to use only their right hand in times past.  Are we, by making our son conform to the norm, making it to unnatural for him to write, and is this why he has so much trouble at it?  Would we have been better off just letting him grip it in a way that felt natural for him?  I don't know what the right answer to this is, and I don't think we could reverse the changes, but it's an interesting point to ponder.

I loved Stephens work, and plan on purchasing a print of this drawing when it becomes available. I was amazed at how well he was able to concentrate and work with so many people watching.  He would pause every few minutes and look around.  At first I thought he was looking at the crowd.  Then I wondered if he was seeing the city in his head, and visualising what it looked like before putting it on paper.  His attention to detail was quite amazing.  I have absolutely no idea how he does it!

I felt very privileged to view him working.

Peer Support!

Over the years of Michael's schooling - he is currently in year 6 -  he has had some fantastic teachers who have helped to develop an attitude of care and acceptance within Michael's peer group.  I'm going to do a few posts about these kids, to highlight how important they have been to him in his life.

In grade one, one of the first ways his teacher discovered to get him to do something, was to get one of the girls to ask him!  He has always been popular among the females, and usually attracts all the little would be mothers!  They will tie his shoes, carry his books, show him where to go, and generally do things so he doesn't have to think for himself!  Sometimes I wonder if he would have grown up a bit tougher if he hadn't had such accommodating peers, but it has made his primary school years so enjoyable for him, and he is so happy at school, and within himself, that I think the advantages out weigh the disadvantages no end.  I believe that giving a child a strong, solid and secure background, where they know they are loved and accepted is the best starting point they could possibly have.

There has been a core group of about 6 students from that first class who have stayed with him right through to now, and will be with him next year as well.  I know I am going to cry my eyes out the day he finishes primary to start high school, as all his friends seem to be going to different high schools, so it would have been impossible for him to stay with them.  In the end, we have chosen a school that has a superb reputation for supporting special needs children quite close to us, with very low student numbers.  It will be hard for him to adjust at first, but I believe it is the right choice for him and have had a lot of positive reinforcement for our choice.

Michael's Grade One Birthday

Michael's birthday that first year of grade one turned out to be one of the funniest things ever.

About six weeks beforehand we asked him if he wanted a party with any of his friends, or just cup cakes at school and family at home.  He was adamant that he did NOT want a party!  This was fine, less work for me, and everything was rosy.

The week of his birthday came, and suddenly he turns to me and says,"I've changed my mind, I want a party now" !!!  I asked him if he was sure, and he seemed to be, so I now had about three days to organise it.  "Who do you want to invite", asked I, he promptly named 6 friends.  "Any others" says I, "No", says he. "I am turning 6, therefore I need to invite 6 friends" !!!  Who am I to argue with such intrepid logic.

So one busy night creating invitations, which we handed out the next day.  Thankfully I new all the mums, so gave the invitations directly to them, with apologies for the short notice.  This next bit shows how even then the relationship with his class mates has just been wonderful.  Everyone invited was able to come, and none of those not invited seemed to mind.  They all accepted Michael just the way he was.

The day of the party arrived, and after frantically cleaning the house (quite normal for my house), we were ready!   The party was only going to be for an hour, I think 1pm to 2pm, so hopefully short and sweet.  My own philosophy for giving party's has always been to tire them out, feed them lots of sugar, and send them home before the house is destroyed.  This was no different.

I think we had a pass the parcel game, pin the tail on the dinosaur, and a few other party games.  All the kids had a fantastic time.  Played nicely, brought lovely gifts, and where very well behaved.  All that is, except Michael!  As soon as the first guest arrived, he was happy to accept their presents (most were lego), but then went straight to his room, where he kept to himself almost the entire hour.  I think we did manage to coax him out to cut the cake, and get a very reluctant picture, but apart from that, nothing!  His class mates, and their parents, all seemed to understand however, so a good time was had by all, and it was a successful party.  These parties improved over the years, but he has always been more excited by organising them, then actually participating in them!

Premature Birth Day

Today's blog is for my friend Kylie at Not Even a Bag of Sugar


I have to admit I haven't had a lot to do with premature babies, or even small babies.  Both of my own children were overdue, and at 8lb 14oz, and 10lb 8oz, definitely not considered small!


After reading the account from Not Even a Bag of Sugar   of her experience, as well as some of her friends blogs, including Mummypinkwellies  and  24weekers  I was extremely moved.  I don't know how I would have coped with a sick baby, who you couldn't hold or take home, or otherwise care for for weeks and months.  To go so long dealing with such uncertainty must be heartbreaking, and I have nothing but admiration for any family who must go through it.  


I would like this post to be a salute to all Mums, Dads, and Bubs who have been affected by prematurity, and to vow to hold them in my prayers, and support them when given the opportunity.


God Bless everyone of you.

Grade One Continued

During those first few weeks of one we had quite a few things of concern.

When we were having to observe him in the playground, we found it very hard to differentiate him from the other children, as they were all dressed the same!  Our solution was to put him in brightly coloured shoes (not school uniform of course), but it was the only way to spot amongst the crowd!

An incident that didn't help during that first week of grade one, and saw us sign our first behavioural management plan, was a fire alarm.  This was not a drill, it was a real alarm, from a possible risk.  The children HAD to come out of the buildings!  I often picture this as a similar scene from the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie Kindergarton Cop, where during the first drill, he ends up dragging kids out by their shirts with total pandemonium.  The thing is, it was new to all the grade ones, and it was real, not a drill, so NO ONE was prepared.  I think, from memory, they had to call the deputy principal at the time to come and carry him to the safety area.  But he didn't go without a fight!  I think it was very frightening for all involved.  After this incident, we signed permission for Michael to be carried on occassions when his or others personal safety was involved, and his first plan of action was put in place regarding future fire alarms.  There were drills quite regularly that first year just for the practise!

With the introduction of the aide in about week two, things started to improve.  Michael began to settle in school, and was always happy when I picked him up.  He still screamed and protested on the way in, but it was getting less time to that all important 'he's okay' phonecall.  He actually started learning his letters and numbers.  His teacher was one of those amazing people who was able to adjust the whole classes education system to suit my sons need, without any of the class loosing out.  She started an attitude of acceptance between Michael and his classmates that has continued to this day.  It is one of the things that I will always be grateful for from the school.

Michaels learning was slow, but he was beginning to read and talk more, and was accepted into the class and the whole school by all involved.

Starting Grade One

Grade one is a scary time for any child.  The first time of structured learning, sitting at desks, and having to get work done.  For Michael, it was very interesting indeed.  The first day wasn't too bad. It was all new and he didn't know what to expect.  I presume like most grade oners, he thought it would be just like preschool!  It wasn't.  There is a lot more work involved in grade one.

And this was on top of all his other needs and requirements.  We had managed to get him toilet trained, although there were still a LOT of accidents.  He had a lot of sensory issues, many of which we still hadn't worked out yet, which was lots of fun.  The school, although fantastic in what they did for us, had not had a lot of experience with ASD, so they were learning as well.  All this made for an interesting first week.

My husband had the first week off work to help, and we so needed it!  Because the funding for aid time hadn't come through yet, we were needed to go to school at every break to help him practically.  That is, go to the toilet, get his lunch out and organised, and then supervise him in the playground.  That's four trips to the school in one day.  Morning, first break, second break and pick up.  We did this for I think two weeks, and then the funding came through for an aide, so he had a full time aide in school with him all the time for the next four weeks.  This first aide was such a blessing, and played a big part in getting him settled into school.

Mornings became a nightmare.  We would have to force his clothes on him, then carry him and place him in the car.  Once at school I would send my older child off, and then drag him out of the car, usually screaming, and carry him into the school and put him down.  Once there, his teacher or aide would take hold of him, I would give them his bag, and then I would leave.  That was the only way it seemed we could do it.  His grade one teacher was fantastic.  Everyday she would call me once he settled down, so that I could relax.  I didn't do much until I got that phone call.  In fact, I didn't do much at all during those first few weeks of school.

The Cave

This is an analogy of how my journey felt to me.

When our son was born, we started a journey.  We were on a long clear road, with other people, but no major hurdles in the way.  It wasn't going to be all roses, and we were sure there would be bumps, but the end was quite visible, we knew where we were headed.

Then we fell down a hole, and that hole was covered over.  We now were completely blind.  Didn't know where we were, what had happened, or which way to go.  First of all, we stood up to try and walk or get out.  It didn't work.  We fell back down, there was no way we could even stand in this place.  We are in a cave with no light and no sound.

So, we started to crawl.  Had no idea which way we were heading, but we had to move somehow, otherwise we would die!  So we crawled.  We may have gone in circles, we may have gone in a straight line.  Who knows!  We sure didn't.  But eventually, we hit a wall.  It must have been a wall, because we couldn't get through, under or over it.  But, we could use it to stand up.  So, we have now got to the wall, and we're standing up!

We can now slowly move along this wall, keeping our hands pressed surely to it.  Eventually, we find an opening.  We keep our hands pressed to the wall, but start down this new opening.  What is it? Where does it go?  Is it the right way for us?  Unfortunately, this path was a dead end.  There is no hope this way.  We go back, keeping our hands pressed to the wall.  We keep going around this wall, and eventually come to another opening.  Is this the right path? We go down a little way.  It doesn't end.  Its looking promising.  We are still in the dark, but this path feels better.

We keep walking, still pressing our hands against the wall.  Suddenly, something appears in the distance.  After so long in the dark, we have no idea what it is.  We keep looking at it, and walking towards it.  We realise after a while, that it's light!  It's an awfully long way away, and it doesn't illuminate our surroundings, but we can see it.

So this must be the way to go.  This must be the path towards the opening.  Maybe, one day, after a lot of slow walking, we might actually get to that light.  We can't see what's in the path.  We are sure that there are many rocks, boulders, and loose gravel.  We are sure we will stub our toe, slip over, and feel like giving up before we reach the end.  But we are going to keep going.

One day, I hope, we will be back on that open road.  It probably won't look the same to us anymore.  We will be more aware of pitfalls, traps, and will probably look more at our feet than the end goal.  But one step at a time, we are walking our way towards the end.  We won't win any prizes for being first.  But we will definitely be stronger, fitter, and more sure of what we can handle.

We have been in the dark, and in fact, are still there, but we are moving forward to a future with possibilities.

SEDU

There were many ups and downs in that preschool year.  In hindsight, if I could do it over again I would have pulled my son out of the school preschool, and just left him in the SEDU.  He was happier in the smaller group, and we constantly clashed with his preschool teacher, who just didn't get him.  She was a bit better once we had that diagnosis, but she almost seemed to just ignore him, and left him to the aide.  She didn't seem to think of his needs, or do any adaptions within the class for him.

I remember, at the and of the year that it became quite obvious.  They had scheduled afternoons where they would go to the grade one class rooms to get them ready for 'big school', but these all happened on the Wednesday, the day he didn't go.  I would take him up just for the afternoon so he could join the experience, but I mean, really, it wasn't going to work, trying to introduce this new experience by making the whole thing be out of routine.  She also scheduled the class Christmas party and breakup to be on a Wednesday as well.  So again, for him to be a part of it, we had to go up to school on a different day, and disrupt his routine.  And she didn't even seem to realise that either of these things would be a problem.

On the other hand, Michael absolutely loved his SEDU class.  He was happy to carry his bag in, knew where it had to go, and was able to participate in everything.  It was the very beginning of targeting his social skills learning, and they put into motion a lot of ideas that were used in future years.  He 'graduated' from the SEDU that year, and deemed him ready for grade one.

We enrolled him at the same school as his preschool, as his older sister was already there.  We were assured that they would be able to accommodate him, and he would receive adequate aide time to help him adjust to the new environment.  It was quite a big decision to stay at this school, as at the time they did not have a special needs department,  and there were only about 3 or 4 students with needs.  But it turned out to be a very wise decision for our son during the next few years, and we didn't regret it.

Its official

I know that for a lot of people, the time of receiving the diagnosis can trigger a lot of grief and feelings of loss and hopelessness.  But for myself, I think that because I knew in my heart that this was the issue, I went through that grieving time about a year earlier.  When Michael received his diagnosis, my main feeling was one of complete relief.

FINALLY, I had an answer, and an official answer.  I wasn't making it up, worrying about nothing, making mountains out of molehills, or wasting peoples time.  There was something wrong, and now it felt like we could start to help him.

It was amazing how quickly things happened at this time.  Within a week, Michael had been accepted into a Special Education Development Unit (SEDU), 2 days a week, which was a place for pre school aged children who needed early intervention.  At this unit he was in a class of 6 with one teacher and one aide.  He had such a good time there, and developed so much.  He received speech therapy, occupational therapy, and some physio therapy at this place, and it dramatically helped him become prepared for grade 1.  He was going to this school Monday and Tuesday, staying home Wednesday, and then going to the Preschool at the other school on Thursday and Friday.  It was a lot for a little one of 4, almost 5 to do, so we cut all other activities at this time, as he would just get so tired.

We were also now able to get more help for him at his preschool, and he suddenly, instead of being a "naughty neurotypical child", suddenly became a "quite well behaved child with Autism".  It made such a difference to everyone's reaction to him.  It was the start of a beautiful relationship between him and his peers, and just made a lot of things clearer.

There were definitely many challenges ahead, but we had made a start, and were moving forward.

Recieving a Diagnosis

After waiting almost two years, we finally had our evaluation from the Speech Pathologist.  She was very good, and officially diagnosed him as being 18 months behind where he should be.  But she also realised that the speech was not the only issue, and sent us back to the paediatrician to evaluate him with regard to ASD.  She was willing to start speech sessions, but wanted to hold off until a full diagnosis of his condition could be established, as this would effect what therapies would work best.

We went back to the Paediatrician who performed some assessment test with him.  It had some name, but I really can't remember what it was now.  I know it involved my child, one parent (his dad), and the doctor in the room, and two or three more assessing people, plus me in the next room, observing through a viewing window.  It was all very interesting, and nerve racking at the same time.  There was a lot of looking at books, and playing with toys, and generally messing about.  After the assessment, the assessors went away, and we went home, and then went back a few days later.

When we returned for our follow up appointment, in April 2005, Michael was officially diagnosed as being High Functioning on the Autism Spectrum.

This news turned our lives upside down, and challenged everything we thought we knew about raising children. Because of course we had so much experience with our one older child (who of course was perfect, and has always remained so!).  Everything that worked for our first child, seemed to dismally fail for our second.  Now we had a reason, and a way to move forward.

Starting Preschool

The beginning of 2005, when Michael started preschool, was a very hard time.  He still didn't have an official diagnosis, so we had no proof of what we were asking.  His preschool teacher was quite unsupportive of us as well, which really didn't help matters.  I remember at one of our initial meetings with her, offering the suggestion to help her form a connection, to just count with him.  Didn't matter what, but I knew that he was so into counting, and could happily do it for hours.  Unfortunately, she totally misunderstood me, and her only comment was "we don't teach maths at preschool".  I was quite dumbfounded, and very disappointed. I am sorry to say that our relationship didn't improve over the year, and I was very glad to get out of her classroom!

I remember one issue we still had was his toileting.  Now he was sort of trained.  He was dry at night, and he generally had complete control of when, where and what he did.  But he would choose not to use the toilet at preschool! It could have been a sensory thing, or something else, but the consequences where that we had many accidents at school.  Every time he had an accident, I would be called to come and clean him up.  I was constantly at the school.  One exasperating day, the teacher turned to me and said "will you just fix your son".  I was extremely hurt by this at the time.  Didn't she think I'd been trying?  Did she think I enjoyed coming up to the school every day just to help him change his pants?

I'm not sure what would have happened at this point, if we hadn't finally managed to get an official diagnosis.  But thankfully, it was around now that we finally got to see a wonderful Speech Therapist who helped us to go to the right people, to get that magic piece of paper.

Kindergarten

In 2004 Michael started kindergarten.  This was rather difficult, but the place where we went was lovely, and the teachers very understanding.  One issue was that he wasn't completely toilet trained at this point, so we had to negotiate nappy changes and toileting issues.  Because of their rating, they were not able to assist in the nappy change.  It was rather difficult, & I used to have to pop in most days to change his nappy.  Not the best thing to do with a child who has separation anxieties.

It became very obvious this year that he was far behind socially.  He wouldn't engage with the other children, instead playing by himself.  He didn't join in for the group activities, especially singing and quiet carpet time things, although he did enjoy the stories, and listened in his way.  He was a master at all the jigsaws, and had them all done in the first few weeks.  His fine motor skills started more clearly letting him down as well.  His pencil holding, using scissors, painting, all this wasn't quite on a par with his peers.

I think he did enjoy this year, and his teacher and fellow students seemed happy for him to be there, as he was.  It was a very caring kindy, and they did their best towards him, especially as we had no official diagnosis at this stage, but everyday we were becoming more certain that we would get a diagnosis eventually.

All this year we were on a waiting list for the speech therapist and paediatrician.  We enrolled him in Preschool for 2005, and still hadn't had our appointments.  It wasn't until early 2005 that we eventually found some real answers.

The 'A' Word

So now his speech is starting to improve slowly, but other social things are really suffering.  We pull out of kinder gym, because he just hates  it!  Won't cooperate, cries and complains, and doesn't fit in with the other children.  We go to a playgroup, but we eventually stop going there as well.  Michael is just unhappy, doesn't want to join in, has trouble sharing, hates the singing and reading times.  The difference between him and other children is becoming quite marked.

It is at this time that we first come across that word.  Autism.

I don't know about anyone else, but my understanding of what autism was is very different to what I understand now.  Before, I thought a child with autism was someone who didn't talk, didn't want to associate with anyone, didn't even try to interact.  To put it bluntly, a child who could walk and eat, but had no other real brain function!!  That's how it was portrayed, when I looked at it at all.  With this image, I was adamant that my son did NOT have such a thing.  But then I looked at it some more, and realised that my understanding of autism was pitiful to say the least.

Autism is actually a spectrum.  The correct term for it is Autism Spectrum Disorder(ASD).  And this spectrum is very very long, ranging from low functioning, to high functioning.  It includes some with learning difficulties, and some who have advanced knowledge.  Some children can be verbal, others non-verbal.  Some have sensory issues, which again can wide and varied.  There seems to be no end to the possibilities of how ASD presents itself.  It is, in fact, very hard to pinpoint exactly what it is.  There are no blood tests, gene tests, or any other physical test that can diagnose ASD.  It's a subjective mind and behaviour based diagnosis.

So, between three and five years of age, this is what we began to seek  a diagnosis, so that we would then know what we were facing, and hopefully be able to know how to help our boy.

Speech Delay

When Michael was about 18 months, was about when we first realised that he was way behind, and we needed help.  At this time, the most obvious lack was with his speech, so that's where we started.  We went to the GP, who sent us to the Paediatrician, who sent us to the Speech Pathologist.  We were a bit short of funds at this time, so we were relying on the public system.  There was a few months wait to get into the Speech Pathologist, so it must have been close to his 2nd birthday when we were finally seen.

The first thing the speechie did (or was it the paediatrician? can't remember now) was send him to get his hearing checked.  Most easily assessed reason for speech delay.  This took two visits.  He must have been around three, because I remember they just put him down for the "co-operative" hearing test, without even bothering to ask us what would be best!  Needless to say, he didn't co-operate, which necessitated the making of another appointment to give him the very young, unable to co-operate test.  Through this they found that his ears could hear fine, although there may have been some sensitivity to the high and low frequencies.  This, we were to discover, was a first indication of sensory issues.

The result of the hearing test allowed us to continue onto the speech pathologist, who at this time, officially diagnosed him with speech delay.  The first of many diagnosis.  As, at this time, there was quite a wait for regular sessions with a speech pathologist, I was offered a course called "It Takes Two Too Talk".  This was basically a course for the parents, to teach them how to teach their children.  I did find this very useful, and used a lot of it to help my son.  Although now, the main thing I remember, is that I needed to lower my own level of speech, to just above his, to help him advance.  That is, when he wasn't speaking, I say one word.  When he was saying one word, I say two.  When he is saying two words, I speak in short sentences. When he has short sentences, I say two sentences.  This did work, and although it was slow, I did see some progress.  I have found the principal of teaching him just above his level to be useful in many other areas of his life and learning as well.  I will always appreciate attending that course.

Second Year

It was during Michael's second year that we really began to get worried, and realise something wasn't right.  Physically, he was fine.  He rolled over, crawled, sat, stood and walked at all the right times.  There was some fine motor skills that possibly should have developed more, but they weren't as obvious then.  The two things that become obvious at this time, was his speech delay, and his social delay.

His first words were numbers, being able to count to over 100 before 18 months.  He never got the numbers wrong, and was even able to to simple addition at this age as well.  The problem was, that numbers were his only words for a long time.  There was no mum or dad, or drink or bread, or any other words that should have been coming.  Eventually he did say other words.  Thomas (the tank engine), Bob (the builder), and eventually, by around two, I think he was starting to say mum and dad.  But it was a very long time coming.  I had so many people at this time saying things like "don't worry, he has an older sister to speak for him, he'll talk when he's ready",  or "...boys are always slower to talk than girls.  He'll be fine."  So many people saying there was no problem, and not to worry, but I think I knew something wasn't right.

His social delay wasn't quite so easy to spot to the casual observer.  A normal childs development is something like :

1. Mouthing toys
2. Holding toys
3. Using toys
4. Playing with toys
5. Playing with toys next to others (parallel play)
6. Playing with toys with others (turn taking) etc

That isn't a complete list, but Michael reached the holding toys stage, and didn't develop from there for quite a while, possibly well into his 4th year.

It was during this second year that we first approached a professional for advice.

First Year

Michael was born in mid 2000.  It wasn't the easiest of pregnancies. I was very close to getting gestational diabetes, and suffered a lot from heart burn and sickness throughout the duration.  When he was born, he was a very large infant, weighing in at 10lb 8oz.  He was so big that he dislocated his shoulder on the way out, and the poor boy had to have it put back into place.  He had the cord wrapped around his neck, and came out blue, but he did recover quite quickly.

I didn't realise it at the time, but this was the start of our journey together with autism.  Getting to know my son, watching him grow.  The slow anxiety that comes when things don't quite happen when they should.  The reading, studying online, the endless parade of doctors, paediatricians, psychologist, speech therapists, occupational therapists.  Then school, involving special ed teachers, guidance officers, teacher aides, teachers.  Sometimes, the amount of people involved in our lives seems endless.

But back then, that was all ahead of me.  For the first few months of his life, he was a wonderful baby.  Quiet, happy and content.  I had a very talkative, busy three year old at the time, so considered myself fortunate that I had an adaptable baby!  Looking back, I realise now that he was too quiet.  He didn't do anywhere near the amount of babbling, and two way interaction that a baby should do.  He was always so content to be by himself, and play by himself.  I still gave him lots of time and attention, but wasn't paying enough attention to what he wasn't doing.

I don't know if I would have been able to change anything, but I suppose I will always wonder what if...., it is after all, human nature to do so.