Hale House Adventures

Tuesday of this week was hard. I woke up optimistic about Zoey’s appointment with the developmental pediatrician. I mean, come on. Last time they saw Zoey was in November. She wasn’t potty trained. She wasn’t speaking in full sentences. She was still mouthing everything that sat still. I was ready for them to say “She’s doing awesome mom. I’m so proud of her”. That is not what happened.

We went into our appointment like normal, chaotic. If you have ever spent 5 minutes with my children you know that we don’t do anything quietly or calmly. We come in like a “Halestorm”. Today was no different. We are loud. We draw attention. But we are happy and well mannered. We say “Excuse us” and “Thank you”. And we will scream “Good morning” to the world. Yeah, not what you expect in a hospital waiting room. Today, however, we must have had a fresh out of school nurse because she stared Zoey’s missing hand down. Not even discreetly. She stared at Zoey the entire length of the room and turned in her chair to watch her. Normally, this doesn’t bother me but today it did. We were in a military hospital. If there was any place I would expect her NOT to get stared at, this was it. It isn’t like they have never seen an amputee before. So I just couldn’t hold my tongue. I said “You know, your patients would feel more welcome if you didn’t stare at amputees”. And I may have used my teacher voice when I said amputee and stared back at the nurse. The room became quiet and she began stammering for a response. But seriously there isn’t anything you can say but sorry. And she didn’t say that. I said “My daughter doesn’t notice you staring yet but I do and I don’t appreciate it.” She continued to stammer and stutter for a response. We just walked away. A different nurse apologized. I freely admit, I did not handle this the best way. I was not the example Zoey needed but the mama bear in me wasn’t having it today.

So we make into the actual room where we get to see the doctor. Luckily with these appointments the observations are play based so there were already toys for the kids to play with. Thank God for the small things. This kept them occupied for a few minutes just so I could regain my composure. Calmed down, I was ready to move onto the praise that the doctor was going to have for Zoey. Instead I got a kick in the gut.

He came in and observed Zoey, talked with me, played with Zoey, and then calmly laid a bombshell on me. Zoey was being officially diagnosed with Autism. Cue the inner monologue of “Oh Hell NO”. Stunned, I sat and listened to his reasoning. She didn’t have enough social skills or read social cues. She did have a wide variety of facial expressions. She wasn’t having age appropriate conversations. She had food aversions. She had has a tendency to repeat words or activities. He said that she “looked better than she was”. Apparently my daughter had developed enough coping skills to mask the problems. Ummm what!!!! Zoey is one of the most social kids around. She LOVES people. She will talk to anyone, that doesn’t mean its a language they understand yet, but she will talk to anyone. And she doesn’t hold age appropriate conversations? She didn’t start talking until she was 3. She has come so far!! All of the reasons seemed pretty weak to me but I’m not trained, I’m just a mom.

I left there with my chin held high, proudly holding Zoey’s hand. Regardless of what that paper said, I was infinitely proud of her. She has beat the odds from before she was even born. She would overcome this too. I however felt defeated. I felt like a failure as a mom. How could I be so blind as to not see the problems they saw? What was I missing? I had naively thought that we were catching up and then this. Then he says “She is autistic”. I wanted to cry. And I did for about 2 minutes. Not because she was autistic but because she had something else to fight. Dammit, how much is one child supposed to fight? And I couldn’t do a single thing to help her with this fight. This was one I could support from the sidelines but could not do anything else. I will fight for my kids until the last breath leaves my body (and then if I can after that too) but I can’t fight this for her. And that hurt, A LOT.

So that night Nick took the kids outside to play in the pool. I had to have a few minutes by myself to digest all of this and honestly to really look at my own emotions with it. I realized that while my feelings were justifiable, I was being stupid. Zoey was not different when we walked out of that room than when we walked in. She is still an amazingly happy child that loves people. She is learning to talk more everyday. She is one of the strongest people I have ever met and nothing has changed about that. So someone put a label on her, that doesn’t change her. It may make things a little more difficult on my side (IEP, school, doctors, etc.) but it DOES NOT define Zoey. Zoey is Zoey. She is who she is. The baby that wakes up with the sun smiling and ready to go. The little girl who has a huge smile and yells “Good morning.” The protective big sister to Cannon. Her daddy’s princess. My warrior. Zoey is Zoey!! And I was letting a label given by someone who spent an hour in 6 months with my daughter cloud my feelings. I was being an idiot.

SO yes, Tuesday sucked. I was given a punch in the gut but I made it worse. Ok, Zoey is now labeled Autistic. I will continue to watch her grow and develop and AMAZE everyone. I will continue to love her. I will continue to nurture her independency, tenacity, and love of live. I will continue to let her grow in a safe (yet disciplined) environment. And I will be damned if I let someone else’s label EVER cloud my feelings again.