I remember her artworks, most of which contained the same funny brushstroke, a little swirl on a vertical. I never thought much of it then. As I often do, I wonder how I didn't know she was autistic until she was seven. But I always come to the same conclusion -- she was my only child. She was different than I expected, but isn't every kid different?
My mom used to say that people would comment on how early and how well I talked, but she had the same issue, no real point of comparison. Azadeh is a lot like me, and all kids are different.
Having Lochlan -- who is without a doubt the calmest, most patient, most affectionate kid I know -- puts her behavior in a starker relief. He pretends to feed his stuffed animals. He gives me bites of food. He helps out -- just yesterday when picking up up Z from camp, I said, "Lochlan, can you go get the pink flower bag and bring it here?" He fetched her lunch bag and handed it to me.
It's almost a year since we sat on a little couch at Kaiser, her in her overalls, tangled hair hanging in her face, staring at her Kindle with her big earphones on. The doctors told me there were a few other tests that needed to be done to know what services she qualified for, speech, occupational therapy... I asked, "when will we find out if she has autism?" The doctor looked almost surprised. "Oh, she definitely has autism." All of a sudden, it wasn't an "every kid is different" thing. My kid was autistic. My kid had special needs. My kid was gonna be a struggle -- not that she wasn't already, but she wasn't going to grow out of it, either.
Since January, she has been receiving ABA, a type of therapy that sometimes gets a bad rap for how it was practiced decades ago. It's been terrific for her. She now brushes her hair, brushes her teeth, washes her hands after using the bathroom, and generally gets dressed without help. Her ABA technician taught her to ride a bike, finally! We're working on cleaning her room and doing a few chores, and it's going well. We've addressed some of the sleep issues (that one's ALWAYS going to be an issue, but we're going through a good phase [knock wood]). Our next plans involve working on speaking politely, asking in kind tones of voice, that kind of thing. She still sometimes says really mean things out of nowhere.
When I first got the diagnosis, I was a combination of relieved and terrified. I mean, what does an autistic teenager do? An autistic adult? She used to tell us she was going to live with us forever, and the thought that it was a real possibility flickered through my mind.
There are still things I worry about. Puberty, for one. The awful things that can happen in junior high and high school when you're a weirdo (and diagnosis or not, a weirdo is a weirdo). Boys.
But overall, I can see a future for her. I don't know what it is. Science? Writing? The arts? She's a passionate person, and despite her issues with interpersonal stuff, she does desire companionship.
I was reading the book Neurotribes, and there was a passage stating that Asperger's syndrome* people are basically completely without issues if left alone in their room with the door closed -- all their perseverations and stims don't bother anyone if you just let them be by themselves. I don't want that, though, and I don't think she wants that.
Other parts of the book talk a lot about finding your space in the world -- whether it's Star Wars "fandoms" or computer programming. I think she will find that.
And in the year since the diagnosis, I've realized that the diagnosis itself -- although it did help us get services that have made a huge, positive impact in our lives -- isn't that big a deal. My kid is still my kid. She's hard to live with sometimes. She's smart as hell. She's funny and weird. She's different. But every kid is different.
