Allow Me To Wax Philosophical For A Moment

Well, maybe not philosophical, maybe I mean sentimental. Ben was diagnosed a year ago this week. I first heard the words "I think your son has Autism Spectrum Disorder" from a psychologist here in Chapel Hill. That diagnosis was seconded by a team of therapists and psychologists employed by the state of North Carolina through the Child Development Services Agency. Since that time, Ben has had a year of Speech and Occupational Therapy (but he still doesn't talk!) a couple months of Play Therapy, 7 months of a self-contained special education preschool environment, blood tests, vitamins poured down his throat, creams, and now he gets B12 shots every three days and is on a gluten and casein free diet. My son is still autistic and probably always will be. I think he's a moderate case of autism, I hope one day he will be high functioning. I don't know if he'll ever be able to drive a car. I don't know if he'll always be in special education, or whether he'll be able to be in a regular class one day. I don't know if he'll be able to have a job. I don't know if he will ever be able to take care of himself. I don't know if he'll be able to get married or have a family. I used to cry a lot when I first found out Ben had autism. I couldn't tell anyone about it without crying. I was embarassed because I thought I should be able to talk about it without being emotional and when you cry in front of people, it makes them feel bad. I don't want people to feel sorry for him or us. Life doesn't play favorites. Nobody's life is perfect, and there are no guarantees. Ben is one of the happiest individuals I know and he's extremely loving. He gives hugs like nobody's business. He smiles his little dimpled smile at me all the time. He can't talk, he can't imitate, and there are a lot of things he doesn't understand, but love isn't one of them.