No parent wants to receive a diagnosis outside of “Your child is just a normal kid”. Am I right? I’m just learning how to advocate for my children after receiving a diagnosis in December that son #1 has ADHD – Inattentive type. Clearly I have a lot to learn about ADHD because I thought it was a hyperactive boy thing and my kids aren’t hyperactive at all. But ADHD is a huge umbrella encompassing many variations and symptoms – and there is more to discover, I’m sure.

Yesterday was a cold, gray day in Ohio. Son #2 and I chatted on the way for a re-evaluation with the behavior therapist. Our conversation revolved around Martin Luther King. He read and re-read from a timeline he had created in school during the recent MLK holiday. “1929 – Martin was born. In 1955 – Busboy caught in Montgomery, Alabama. 1963 – Martin gives the famous I have a dream speech. 1968 – Martin is shot and died.” He repeated these sentences to me over and over again. I couldn’t understand why the fact about a busboy being caught was in that timeline. Was Martin a busboy? What was he caught doing? So we started our merry go round of a conversation – “Boo, what was the busboy caught doing?” I asked. He answered, “Nothing”. “So, why is it important on the timeline? Was Martin a busboy?” I continued. “No, Mom! Rosa Parks had trouble on the bus, not Martin!” he stated. At this point, my mind is trying to piece the story line together and cheer him on for knowing the story of Rosa Parks and telling me that. Then it dawns on me….in 1955 there was a bus BOYCOTT. We talked about the boycott. He has speech issues – he has been in speech therapy since he was 4 years old. I still translate for him with others. He’s shown some improvement but we have more work to do. He asked me about guns and why were they created. I explained they were for self defense and for hunting food but sometimes people with dark hearts use them to hurt and kill. We talked about dark hearts being filled with hate, unforgiveness, and evil. He asked me if I thought that his heart was light. Yes, absolutely. He told me that I have a light heart too. And we arrived at the appointment.

Approaching the door, I read that we were entering a child psychiatry office. How did we get here? You never envision that one day you will be here. Upon entering the waiting room there were 2 people already there. One was a young man, late teens, possibly early twenties – dressed in dark clothing – sitting eerily still, downward empty gaze – a shell of a person. I was thankful that my little one didn’t refer to him as he normally would comment on others appearances or mannerisms. There was a woman sitting in the corner silently. We didn’t see her face. The dialog started with reference to the coffee bar. He wanted me to make a coffee and when I politely refused he offered to make me a coffee lol He commented on the contents of the small refrigerator with the glass doors. He talked to me about our upcoming trip to Florida and our dog, Allie, that passed away on October 17, 2017. Each conversation had an emotion attached to it. He logs things into his mind, categories are being formed of his life happenings. He didn’t like that the clock didn’t have numbers but did like that the hanging light fixture had a zig-zag shade. We talked about the tick marks on the clock representing 12 & 6 and 9 & 3. Then he counted the tick marks for everyone in the waiting room. No one reacted but me – I praised him for connecting the dots of how a clock with no numbers works. The young man was summoned by his psychiatrist. The doctor turned and smiled at us. My mind commanded me to smile back all the while I was silently questioning the reality of us being there. Soon, the woman was taken back to her appointment by her doctor. My mind being numb – I still don’t know what she looked like. And then, a child came through the door from the offices. He was very much like my little boy. Curious and hopeful. And his mother came through and gave me one of those lips pressed together smiles – the kind that is laced with apprehension and uncertainty but determined to fake it ’til you make it. I mirrored the same facial expression and knew that my eyes scrunched with an expression of sadness that we all had to be here. And they were gone and we were whisked in to the office.

Dr. J gave Boo some Thinking Putty and a brief explanation of what it was and ideas of what could be done with it. It was Chameleon Green. She handed me a clipboard with 3 pages – the title was “Childhood Autism Spectrum Test” and had instructions on how to score it from a parents point of view. My mind raced and I had to have an internal dialog redirecting my focus to re-read the directions because I didn’t want to make any mistakes. While I filled out the form, Boo was making a ball and paddle with the putty and making small talk with Dr. J. She had weighed him and measured his height and he felt comfortable enough to leave his shoes off and make himself at home. He was asked to write his name on a paper – to which he requested permission to trace his hand and write his name inside of the hand. He amazes me. He wrote his name. Looked it over. Applied finishing touches to a couple of letters and then declared it to be done. They played a game together while I was still trying to get my mind to focus and get my ability to over think things under control. I finished up. Handed the clipboard over and joined in the ping pong game that he had created. She asked him to work on some math problems from a timed test that he didn’t meet expectations on that I had received from his teacher in his most recent report card. He started and realized that he didn’t know the answer to the very next question and couldn’t move past that question until it was finished. His face went expressionless and his eyes filled with tears and he swallowed back the lump in his throat and made eye contact with me. And it was the unspoken mommy-son bond that I knew what he was experiencing and knowing that I couldn’t say or do anything to help him. So, Dr. J asked if he had been taught how to count up and showed him. I use that method too. But it has never made any sense to either of my kids as I’ve tried to teach them both for the past few years. So she made him a number line and he knocked out 2 rows of math problems. Then he got distracted and redirected and once again he didn’t know how to solve the problem and was redirected to the number line that he had forgotten existed – then finished the page. I was elated for him. While he worked, Dr. J tallied the results from my questionnaire and I fought taking a much needed nap. She asked us both questions, read the most recent IEP for speech, the most recent report card, the notes from the teacher on the report card, the results from his STAR reading test, and looked at school papers I grabbed in case she needed to see his penmanship and math work. We talked about my request to our school to have him evaluated. There were words like Social Pragmatic Communication, Sensory Processing Disorder, ADHD – Hyperfocused, Temporal Type, Anxious …. and then the word appeared. I had always suspected that he was on the Autism Spectrum based on his issues with sounds, texture, his quirks, attention to details, rules he sets or insists that we follow but the pediatrician dismissed all of my concerns. He makes eye contact, he is affectionate, he is verbal, he dresses himself, he isn’t autistic. But today the “A” word came out – and not the “A” word I expected…I wasn’t prepared for the A word to be Asperger. She explained that it is on the higher functioning end of the Autism Spectrum. How can you suspect something for years and then still feel like somebody punched you in the gut and you can’t breathe? We finished up the appointment and left. He wanted to go out to eat – so we went to his favorite place, Red Robin.

At Red Robin we had a beautiful young lady named Wynter that was our server. When she approached our table, he raised his little hand and said, “We are running late – can I have mac n’ cheese, French fries, and chocolate milk. Please?” and Wynter attentively listened with a beautiful smile on her face. She assured him that she would get us taken care of right away. I placed my order and then she headed to the kitchen. My mind was spinning, my body felt numb. I contacted a friend and asked if she could get son #1 off the bus for me, because we were running late from the appointment. And then Boo and I had the talk….

“Boo? Do you ever feel like you are different from other people? Different than other kids?”, I asked. “How do you mean? Like better than other people?” he countered with a puzzled look on his face. I continued, “No, not better than. Different than. Not the same. Like you’re different than other kids.” Without looking at me, he stated simply, “Yeah. They don’t play with me at recess, they don’t pass the ball to me at basketball and I’m open. Big boys at church make me say words and they laugh when I do. But I’m not better than them and they aren’t better than me. We are the same. Boys. Kids. The same. But I don’t belong to them.” And my mommy heart broke. I explained that we are different than other people, we aren’t better than or worse than – but that we are unique. Our brains were created to think differently and that no one is  – “normal”. After all, being “normal” is overrated. Right? He began to count…”1 – 2- 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 –  12…(all the way to 60)” and then he looked frustrated as he started the count to 60 again – “I thought the food would be here in a minute or 2 – I counted to 120 and our food still isn’t here.” Then he counted again. Wynter showed up with the food and we began to eat. We asked Wynter about her name – was she born in the winter? She explained that her grandmother read a book and there was a character named Wynter – and that is how she was named. She was actually born in June. I was grateful for her kindness and conversation with Boo. He told her his name, his age, his grade, and that we are leaving for Florida soon to watch Daddy graduate from college and see Disney. We left for home and continued to talk about Martin Luther King again.

The next day he went off to school as usual. I set about researching Asperger, Autism, ADHD, and a whole myriad of articles to help me understand. I knew that I needed to talk to my parents. But first, I met a friend for lunch at Red Robin. I blurted out the results of yesterday’s evaluation and immediately felt peace come over my heart and mind. Then I saw Wynter and my heart was reminded of the angelic presence she brought to our day yesterday. The day when the diagnosis rocked our world. And I asked if they would send her over. When she got to the table I started with, “I want to thank you for how you took care of us yesterday and how you made Boo feel so important….” She tried to dismiss it as nothing, as her job. But you and I both know that we are put in other people’s lives for a reason. I began to cry as I explained that we received a diagnosis of Asperger and how uncertain my mind and heart were when we arrived for lunch. I cried, she cried, and my friend cried. And it was beautiful. I am grateful for the good people in this world. I want to tell them they are good. I want to encourage them so they know their goodness hasn’t gone unnoticed.

My mind went to this passage of the Bible this morning.

 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,  because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.  But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.      James 1:2-6 New International Version (NIV)

And this passage of the Bible rang in my ears while Boo and I talked about being different than other people.