Our story begins

I remember Cobain's first words like it was yesterday. It was Mother's Day 2005. It was my first mother's day with my son and I remember being so very tired. While crying in his bedroom during a diaper change, I walked past the room and heard him cry out "mama". My heart literally stopped and broke. At first we thought it was a fluke because he was so young at the time (5 mo) but he happened to say it three more times that day.

I was so proud. You see Cobain did everything early. He talked early. Got teeth early. Walked by 8 months. I, of course, was convinced I was living with a miniature genius. I guess looking back I started to feel a nagging feeling when Cobain was about 18 months. Other kids his age were using utensils and drinking from cups. I just figured since I never pushed it, it was not a big deal. His speech wasn't progressing like other kids his age. Whenever I questioned it, I was always told boys develop slower than girls; every child is different. I just allowed my feelings to be placated because I did not want to be the type of mom that pushed their child and forced them to live by arbitrary standards. At his two year check up, I asked his pediatrician again whether or not I should be worried. She told me we would wait another six months to see how he progressed.

I have never been a massively patient person. So soon after (well two months which I think was rather long for my general patience level), I called a local program that does free screening for speech and other developmental delays. I figured worst case scenario would be Cobain would have to do some speech therapy. I have plenty of friends who have children in speech therapy, so I thought, "No big deal.".

I called, filled out the paperwork and set up the appointment. I was actually kind of embarrassed because I thought I was being maybe a bit overbearing and that I should just wait. I tend to be overly cautious and was worried that I was letting my mind run away from me and wasting these people's time. In the back of my mind, I fully expected them to tell me that there was nothing to worry about and to just go forward with what I was already doing.

Cobain already was doing so much. He knew all of his letters, numbers, colors and shapes. He could count in Spanish. But yet when I filled out the paperwork and was answering questions, it seemed like the simple things were not coming along as well. I never thought about whether or not Cobain could copy a circle. Whether or not he could throw or kick a ball. Whether or not he could string beads or play with a baby doll. He was really into his trains and I figured he was going through a stage like he was with Dora and just not all that interested in other things. So I kept our appointment.

It begins

When I gave birth to my son, my mother commented that she had never seen two people so much in love. We never took our eyes off of each other. In his eyes I saw every promise and potential I had ever prayed for in a child. He has never disappointed me.

Cobain has always been a happy child. Every baby picture has him smiling. He is loving, funny, beautiful and amazing. Now as time went on I was called overbearing, that I spoiled him and was generally smothering :). I didn't mind because I feel that you can never love a child too much and if you give them a foundation built on love, trust and respect, you can't go wrong. It never occurred to me that something outside of ourselves could change that.

I have many friends whose children were born with various illnesses or are differently abled. Those children have been a light in my life for many years. But with all of them, we either knew before they were born or right after birth that there was an issue. We had time to prepare. We never knew life before because it just was, regardless of whatever beautiful struggle that was brought before these little angels, it had presented itself and we had prepared for it in one way or another.

I think that is what makes autism so hard. You don't see it coming. You have a couple of years of having a child under your belt and then the floor drops out from under you.