Life with a Special Boy.

When Dylan was born, he was 'normal'. I use that in parentheses because there really is no such thing as normal. He was a fussy, colic-y, lovable little squirt. He met all of his milestones early, right up until about 5 months of age. Things started to get a little odd at that time. Before where he was starting to mimic noises we were doing, he stopped. He was very rigid, and could be left alone for long periods of time without doing much of anything. Not that we did, but The Man and I would be in the room and Dylan would be on the floor. He would just chill and look at an object like he was writing a thesis on it.

His head had always been large. This being the main factor in why I had to have a c-section after 24 hours of labor. He wouldn't go through. But later on in his baby-hood, we were starting to be confused about why he was so behind. He would do this military like crawl instead of being up on all fours..ect. He took him to a neurologist and they did a Cat-scan on him to see if there was any abnormalities. Nothing. We went on and on trying to see what the problems were, until we finally got him to see a early childhood psychiatrist.

He was pronounced as Autistic at 14 months of age. Both The Man and I were floored, yet we both saw this coming. He doesn't talk, but he makes a lot of noises. He used to rarely look us in the eye, but he is getting better. He has no way of communicating what he wants and needs to us at all. No pointing, nothing. He started to get lessons of a sort from the Early Childhood Prevention School in Bellevue, Nebraska. This was helping, but not really enough to make significant progress like we hoped.

Hopefully here in Texas, it will be a better program. It is hard taking D out to places. If he gets frustrated, he kind of fusses loudly and screams. People look at The Man and I like we are horrible parents. Shaking their heads and whispers are usually what we get. I just want to yell at them, and say, " He is Autistic, and still learning, give him a break." I am glad he is clueless to this behavior. But The Man and I aren't.

The worst is the Grandparents. Ecspecially on my side. My parents call all the time, have you tried this, is he doing this yet? On and on. And we say, no. The Man's parents are awesome about him and his quirk. I hate calling is a disorder, a disease.. whatever. He has quirks. I am hoping he will progress enough to be a normal adult.

My son is NOT RAINMAN. This frustrates the hell out of me when people bring that up. Dustin Hoffman did a great job in that movie, but that is not EVERY case of autism. His was a portrayal of a major major case.

My son is special. Yes he has special needs, but he is just plain special. He is cheerful, funny, sweet and cuddly. He tries so hard, so super very very awesomely hard. I love this the most about him. His constant persistance. His eyes are so expressive. His smile radiates such pure joy, that it makes everyone else smile around him. He is an amazing little man. He loves to run, to climb on the couch , and to eat. Juicy juice is his drug of choice, but milk is his friend. He loves bread, and anything with starch. Tater Tots and French fries are his favorites, with a hot dog chaser.

When he sleeps, he is an angel who snores like a chainsaw and drools like a leaky faucet. I love my son, my special boy. He may be special needs, but I have a special need for him in my life.