Finally. We finally have a diagnosis for Max. And as much as we knew our little boy is Autistic, it was still hard to hear. It was hard to call Scott at work and tell him. And I couldn't tell my father-in-law, I just told him I couldn't talk about it yet.
I am relieved, and numb, and happy about the services that Max can now get because we have an official diagnosis. I am pissed off at our doctor who I have been begging to help us for a year and a half. I am pissed off at myself for not forcing him to refer us to this pediatrician sooner. I am overwhelmed with the word "Autism". And I am saying "I" a lot, when really, it isn't about me, it is about Max, and what is best for him. And what he needs. Now that we know, we can get him more focused therapy. We can get training in IBI therapy. There is no more putting my hands over my ears and chanting "I can't hear you" when people say the "A" word. We have to tackle this problem head on. Shit, I'm good at that. In fact, I am GREAT at that. Autism watch out, I'm about to kick yo ass.
This beautiful boy will not fall prey to you, Autism. No way, no how. We will pull him from your clutches and beat the crap out of you. Hands off our son, you wicked beast. Here comes Momma, and you ain't never seen a Momma Bear like me. So, watch out, I'm coming to get you. Consider yourself warned.