Journey continued

We were contacted by one of the speech/language pathologists who'd evaluated Daniel and asked to attend an IEP meeting to set up speech/language services to begin as soon as possible. Our meeting was scheduled for September 11, 2001.

On September 9, 2001, Joel's father, David, passed away en route to the hospital. He'd suffered with heart problems for several years, and his passing wasn't completely unexpected, albeit heart-rending in it's suddenness. We began funeral arrangements and forgot to postpone our IEP meeting. On the evening of Sept. 10, 2001, with the funeral scheduled for the next afternoon at 2 p.m., I remembered the IEP meeting scheduled for the next morning at 9 am. We decided to go ahead and attend the meeting.

The morning of Sept. 11th, as we dressed, our phone rang. Ianswered to hear my husband's sister's frantic voice, "Turn on the television! Any channel!" We did so, only to sink down onto our knees as we watched a plane slam into the World Trade Center.

Like zombies, we attended the meeting. The IEP team was told of David's death, and we'd all seen the horrifying events beginning to unfold in our nation. Quickly, they explained the results of the evaluation, and their plans for serving him in his daycare. I vaguely remember words such as "severe language delay", "this level of disability", and I remember that they'd said my 4.1 year old son had the overall language abilities of a 1.7 year old. Thankfully, mercifully, they ended the meeting quickly, understanding our state of mind and heart as we also understood theirs. We were all grieving.

Joel and I barely spoke on the way home. We rushed in to turn on the television to see what was happening in Manhattan only to sink again onto our knees and weep as we watched a second plane slam into the second tower. Joel would mention later that day as we got into our car for the procession to the cemetary that he felt he'd been robbed the chance to grieve his father's death as he was now grieving for thousands. I nodded, silent. I understood all too well his emotions.

It wasn't until days later, when we'd had to tear ourselves away from newscasts showing the horrific scenes over and over, that we finally discussed the things we'd been told at the IEP meeting. We felt we had an understanding of Daniel's troubles, and the speech/language therapy would be able to help.

I poured myself into teaching Daniel new words. As we moved through our days, I'd label everything and ask Daniel to repeat it.
"Daniel, that's a barn. Can you say barn?"
"Barn", he'd say.
"Good job!" I'd squeal.

Daniel began speech/language therapy in mid-September. By early December, he'd made NO progress. I began wondering what could possibly be the reason he wasn't learning like we'd expected. I'd also begun to notice the strange little behaviors - his fascination with lining up cars, trains, spinning things, his tantrums...things I didn't remember Davey being fascinated with or doing at Daniel's age. I knew something was wrong, different, but I didn't know what.
I began to search for what could possibly be affecting my son's learning, his behavior. I read about language delays. That fit, but not completely. I read about ADD/ADHD. That didn't quite fit. I looked everywhere, and was at a loss. Finally, at work one day, I was discussing it with a friend, telling her all of the things I'd researched and how none really fit Daniel. She listened, and then quietly said, "Maybe it's autism."

I'm sure my mouth dropped open, "Autism?! No way my son is autistic. My son is NOT autistic." In my mind's eye, I saw Rain Man. I'd seen the movie several times before and adored Dustin Hoffman's character. My son wasn't like that, though. Still, I turned to my computer, and signed onto the internet to look it up - if only to prove my friend wrong. I did a search for autism, and found a website with an online questionnaire (childbrain.com) that I could complete and they would score it for me. I read the information about autism, and began to cry.

I was reading about my son. So many of the descriptions fit him so perfectly. Not everything, but so many things. I filled out the questionnaire, the computer scored it - Mild PDD (Pervasive Developmental Disorder). I knew it wasn't an official diagnosis, but I knew I had to look in this direction for my son. That was December 10, 2001.