So, my nine-year-old son is autistic.
Over the course of two months, I found myself grappling with how to express this reality in just three simple words: “Ethan has autism.”
“Hello, Ms. Harper,” the school psychologist said during a phone call last October. “Could you come in this week to discuss Ethan’s IEP results?”
Ethan had been on an Individualized Education Program (IEP) since he began public school, but our recent relocation to Nevada meant we needed to reevaluate and conduct new assessments.
No problem, I thought; I was eager to discuss Ethan. He was thriving in third grade, and his reading and writing skills had improved tremendously. Out of all my children, Ethan had adjusted the best to our move from Germany to Las Vegas.
I entered the meeting with the school psychologist, expecting a straightforward review. My husband was away on a four-month assignment, and while I was managing alone, I felt confident this was simply a routine check-in.
“So, Ethan is doing great, right?” I said with a smile.
“Yes, he is indeed an incredible child,” the psychologist replied. “I’ve spent a lot of time reviewing his IEP and speaking with his teachers.”
“Absolutely! The notes they send home are fantastic, and he’s just excelling,” I said, completely unaware of her underlying concerns.
“His previous assessments in Germany were very thorough,” she continued.
“I know, we had an excellent team working with us there,” I said, still oblivious to her tone and body language.
“However, after discussing with his teachers and speech therapist, we strongly believe that Ethan is autistic.”
Silence engulfed the room.
“What?” I stammered, feeling as if I’d been blindsided.
“We’ve been observing him and feel that further tests are necessary, with your permission, of course.”
“Hold on, I don’t understand,” I replied, fighting the urge to react impulsively. “We have had him evaluated repeatedly since he was five years old by specialists and renowned developmental psychologists. Are you implying that none of them recognized this? That you see something they missed?”
She explained that although Ethan had undergone autism evaluations multiple times, many symptoms often do not become apparent until after the age of eight or nine. For instance, a six-year-old may struggle with idioms, while a nine-year-old might grasp social cues better. Ethan, however, misses those cues entirely.
A sense of heaviness settled over me. Her words resonated, and I felt as though I was hearing a devastating truth: your son is not progressing like his peers; he’s fundamentally different. This isn’t merely quirkiness or anxiety; it’s something deeper and unchangeable.
As a parent, it’s humbling to confront the reality you’ve been shielding yourself from, especially when you’ve previously received reassurances from well-regarded professionals. Was I in denial? Was I alone in this realization? With my husband far away and lacking local support, I felt the weight of Ethan’s diagnosis resting squarely on my shoulders.
For a fleeting moment, I considered leaving the meeting entirely—walking out and ignoring the implications of her words. But then I thought, “Okay. What do I need to do? If you believe there’s a possibility, then let’s proceed with the tests. Can we start now?”
It was one of the most challenging things I have ever had to say, and I had to say it quickly before I lost my resolve.
As the first test began, which required me to confront subtle signs I had previously overlooked, I knew. I understood what the subsequent evaluations would reveal. Even though Ethan remained the same boy I had known before this meeting, I felt irrevocably changed.
I sat in my car, unable to drive away from the parking lot, and called a friend who patiently listened as I cried and processed my emotions. It’s hard to articulate this experience without feeling the tightness in my throat. I could picture my beautiful blond boy who relishes “spending alone time” with his terrarium, who is charming, delighted by simple joys, bright, kind, and thoughtful. Yet, he’s autistic.
In due time, my initial shock transitioned into acceptance. My husband reacted positively, feeling a sense of relief. It’s liberating to finally have a diagnosis that explains Ethan’s quirks, such as his fascination with animals, food anxieties, social challenges, and difficulty understanding teasing.
Knowing my son is autistic has transformed our lives for the better.
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In summary, receiving an autism diagnosis for my son was a pivotal moment that shifted my perspective and allowed us to embrace the understanding of his unique needs.
Keyphrase: Autism diagnosis
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