That’s what I blurted out during a break down to my husband this morning.
The boys were eating breakfast. I was doing dishes and thinking about the speech evaluation that was coming up and how Wyatt- (our talker!) had failed to impress the judges at his speech evaluation. I was getting more and more worked up thinking about how I was going to lose it if I had to sit in there and watch them be even less impressed with our mostly non-verbal son.
I was crying the ugly cry and I told my husband he had to take him. I said I couldn’t sit there and watch because “he’s not as good…”.
Mother of the #$%^ing year over here.
Obviously I don’t think he’s “not as good”. He’s awesome.
I just hate this process we have to go through to get them the help that they need. I hate that we have to keep doing it over and over and over again, like so many nails in the coffin. Yes! He has autism! Yes, he’s non-verbal! Yes, he needs speech therapy!
I have had very few breakdowns through all of this. First day of school? Not a tear. Reading medical evaluations that actually used the words “severe” and “profound” to describe their autism? Nada.
I think the last time I had a really good cry about the crappiness of it all was the day of our first evaluation. In December. I think I’ve held up pretty well to go this long.
And the results of his evaluation? Same as his brother, just different skills.
I didn’t see that coming.
I suppose I should give him a little more credit. Oh, and he “qualifies for speech services…”