The joys and pains of parenthood.

When I was 8 months pregnant with our youngest our son was on his first day of kindergarten. We were all thrilled. Day two however was a different matter. I was sitting in my cubical at about 10 in the morning, in a corporate office building with a mountain of paper work and emails taunting me when my phone rang. Not unusual since my phone seemed to ring all day long :) starting at 7am. It was not one of my vendors or superintendents on the other end however. It was my sons teacher. She felt the need to call me and discuss her concerns. Our son, she said, showed classic symptoms of having Autism.

I cried. None of his doctors had ever expressed any concern over any of his slightly unusual behaviors. As a first time parent (who had no siblings) I had no base for reference. As far as I knew everything he was doing was fine. Yeah, so he acted a little different than some of his cousins that were around the same age. So what, he's unique. Okay, so he tore Toilet paper into long little strips and waved them through the air and called them tails. He's imaginative. No, he doesn't speak as well as other 5 year olds. His ENT says it's because he's had so many ear infections.

But Autism? Really? I asked her what I should do and she suggested calling a specialist. Upon getting off the phone with her I began to scour the net and found some phone numbers of local support for Autism. I called and asked them what to do. I was given the name of a few well known Pediatric Neurologists in the area but warned that they often had to schedule 6 months out due to full case loads. I didn't have 6 months. I needed to know what was going on....NOW.

I was lucky that the first office I called had a cancellation and they could get me in in 2 days. Grateful, I hung up and cried some more. I had no idea what it meant to be the parent of a child with special needs. Here I was a full-time working mom and wife who put in at least 50 hours a week with a 2 hour commute each day. I left home at 6:15am and returned at 6:30pm every night. Hubby also worked full-time and his hours tended to be more jacked up than mine.

On Thursday morning I took my little man and with my huge pregnant belly, we trekked an hour to the doctors office. Diagnosis? High functioning autism.

What did that mean? My son was the same as everyone else but he saw the world differently. Processed it differently. Received it differently.

He still does.

I wish for a single day that I could see the world as he does. Then perhaps I would understand better. In reality? I don't. Lord knows that I try but there are days when we just don't connect and no matter what either of us tries, it's just going to be an off day. We deal. We both know that tomorrow it will be a new day and we will try again.

We have had ups and downs. As a family we have gotten through and made adjustments. We will continue to. As a family we must. It is our love that keeps us storng and united against this odd battle for which we don't know the origin.

I love my son to the tips of my toes and back. To the ends of the Earth and beyond.

My greatest wish? Cure, no doubt. But what would be even better? Tolerance from those who don't understand.

Form the kids in his class, or on the bus. From the family who seems to think that at 10 he should just "be normal". From the other parents at the store when he has a melt-down in the cereal aisle.

He is my son and my gift to the world. But in truth I am the receiver of the great gift. He makes me a better person and a better parent. He is my light. He is my hero.