09/17/2025

Today, I received news that I did not expect to rattle me. Yet, it rattled my entire being, stirring a whirl of emotions, and flooding my tired brain with images from my 11 years of parenting.

My oldest son, 11, was diagnosed with autism and both written and math learning disorders today. His psychoeducational evaluation also confirmed his already known ADHD.

I knew this. I’ve always known this. When he was younger, there were social cues, motor differences, and impulsive behaviors that I knew were “different.” Nothing big. Nothing bothersome…just collectively, I knew our baby was a bit like his parents.

None of this mattered until he started struggling in school. I suppose he always has struggled, but as content grew more challenging in 3rd-5th grade, he was always behind. He always did well enough to pass under the radar. In retrospect, we had some very sweet but inexperienced 2nd-4th grade teachers. His fifth grade teacher changed everything for us–she was the first person to ever validate what I saw in my boy. Her validation pushed me to pursue evaluation for autism. I knew with the family history already there it was a decent chance he was autistic as well.

We waited for an entire year to arrive at a diagnosis. 3 waitlists. Disappointment after nine months on one waitlist when their provider that accepted insurance left the company. For an entire year, I’ve been gearing up for disappointment that I’d be told they do not see what I see. He is high-masking and a fawner, never a behavior concern. That is how he has flown under the radar for so long. The feeling when the psychologist confirmed his diagnosis, and what I’d known in my heart for so long, was overwhelming.

It all makes sense now. Lining cars up as a toddler. Baffling mixed speech disorders that took years of speech therapy to overcome. The potty training struggles…the fact that he still can’t wipe his ass right. His continued difficulty with tying shoes…motor skill struggles. His difficulty with mental math facts and telling time…processing delays. The way a word problem turns his brain to mush (oh, do I understand that plight), the random, impulsive, immature behaviors here and there. His speech patterns and the way he talks about his special interests…it’s always been there.

I feel overcome by the feeling that I should have done something sooner. I also know that a diagnosis at 11 is much better than a diagnosis at 41. I’m overcome by the obstacles he currently faces and all of the future obstacles on his horizon. I’m ridden with anxiety over Robert Kennedy and Trump’s recent statements about autism being a “horror show.”

I just want the world to see my beautiful boy for the beautiful soul that he is.

My usual AuDHD self has already taken action, emailing the principal to set up an IEP meeting. Problem-solving tends to help my anxiety, so it is natural for me to slip into that mode during times like this.

We are going to be okay. I absolutely know that. This changes nothing and it changes everything. Now we know. Now, we live without uncertainty. We know what toolbox we are working with, and just have to figure out which tools work best.

Today, I received the greatest gift possible for my son–the gift of knowing himself.