2 months later

Just over 2 months ago is when we got the news. The news that our son has Asperger's Syndrome.  Honestly, it is hard to believe it has been 2 months. I'm going to be brutally honest in this blog post. Just warning you now. 

Just over 2 months I started the grieving process for a son that I would never have. You see, when I was pregnant with him, I had all of these dreams. Dreams of an all-American rough and tumble boy with rugged good looks. He would give me bear hugs and wrestle with his Daddy. He would have lots of friends. And then after he was born and became a toddler, I knew how smart he was. I starting dreaming of additional things...like how he was going to change the world with his intelligence. I wasn't sure how, but I dreamed of many scenarios. And in case you haven't figured it out, I'm quite the dreamer, probably to a fault.

As he continued to grow and get older, I realized how different he was. It worried me. I told our pediatrician at one of his well checks (either 18 or 24 months) that I thought he had autism. I was assured that he was just a genius and quirky. As he got older, social things weren't as easy for him. He didn't have many friends. Although he was very kind hearted, he was also quite contrary and didn't get along very well with many people. The tantrums and meltdowns got worse. I felt like a failure as a mother. I mentioned it to a few pediatricians (we had some insurance changes and had to hop around for a bit) and they all seemed to believe it was due discipline techniques. We tried everything. Nothing really consistently worked. Even through all of this, my dream of how he was going to be always stayed in the back of my mind.

Fast forward to when he began kindergarten. Early on in kindergarten, we were asked to write a letter about our child so that the teacher could understand and get to know our child better. Mine was like a novella. I didn't realize it at the time, but I'm almost certain most people might have had one or two paragraphs. I just couldn't sum him up in a brief note. He has always been complex. He had a great year. Made lots of friends. I was even told he was a social butterfly. I felt maybe he was growing into his quirks. Things were getting better. My dreams started returning.

Then as he entered his first grade year, things got worse. He was angry all of the time. So much so, that we were really concerned. He started some really unusual behaviors that seemed to interfere with his daily behavior. He didn't have many friends and felt that kids were teasing him or didn't like him. He began to cry every morning before school. Things weren't right. I knew in my heart that something was indeed different.

So at the end of the year, we had some testing done. The results were given to us on January 4, 2012.. All of my dreams went crashing down. I will never forget that day. Never. It was a relief and it was paralyzing all at the same time. And I grieved. And grieved some more. Because this ideal of this "perfect" son was not him. It was never going to be him. He simply isn't that child. It is going to take behavioral and occupational therapy to help him through his struggles. But Asperger's isn't just about struggles. It is so much more than that. And it doesn't mean that he isn't awesome. He just isn't going to be that all-American boy.

But here is the thing. I'm okay with that. Chris and I aren't those people. We are weird and quirky and have made a happy little home in all of our weirdness. We will never be that all-American family with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. Quite frankly, I'm 100% okay with it. Harrison is perfect for our family. He is going to do great things one day and more than likely because he has Asperger's. Because of the focus and drive he has on things that interest him, he will absolutely do great things. Because he has a gift that not many people have. So this thing. This syndrome. This diagnosis. It is what makes my son who he is. He is awesome and I love him. And he may never be great at small talk. He may never have many friends. But he makes me laugh. He is so funny, without even trying. And when he hugs me, or sits in my lap, I realize what a big deal it is. He amazes me every day. And some days there is a whole lot of ugly stuff to get through, but it is worth it. And every day the grieving of this "perfect" son consumes me a little less and I learn to embrace and love my sweet and special son just as he is.