Today was a significant day for me, and that says a lot, considering that most days I feel like the only lesson I learn is that mental fatigue can’t actually kill you. However, today, my mind finally acknowledged a new truth: my son has Asperger’s Syndrome. We received that diagnosis nearly two years ago, but as I’ve come to realize, I haven’t been the quickest learner.
When my son first received his diagnosis, I largely dismissed it. I had spent a decade providing behavioral therapy for children on the Autism Spectrum, so when I began noticing early signs in my son, Mason, I assumed I was just being overly sensitive.
Then, Mason’s preschool teachers invited me for what I thought would be a simple parent-teacher meeting. Instead, they presented me with a “Does your child have Autism?” checklist, claiming that Mason displayed most of the symptoms. I was furious. How could they presume to educate me on Autism? If my child had Autism, I would know better than anyone!
Reflecting on that moment, I see that the teachers were inexperienced in their approach to communicating with parents about such a sensitive subject. Rather than providing specific examples of Mason’s behavior that raised concerns, they simply handed me a generic list. This made it all too easy for me to dismiss their claims, simply because I knew for a fact that Mason didn’t “flap,” which allowed me to disregard their other observations as well.
After a tearful night, I reached out to a trusted friend and colleague, Amy, to observe Mason in his classroom. We met at a café, and, being the kind-hearted person she is, she validated my feelings. She agreed that the teachers were missing the mark and that Mason would likely thrive with a bit of individualized attention. We discussed the merits of having him evaluated, and, considering how easily diagnoses can be made in Pennsylvania, it seemed prudent.
In January 2013, Mason underwent evaluation by a doctor I had previously worked with, and I was confident he would align with my wishes. After I shared my observations, he asked, “So what exactly do you want, Rebecca?” I realized this wasn’t just about Mason’s actual needs; it was also about my desire to be the connected parent who could secure additional resources for him. I requested an Asperger’s diagnosis and TSS services along with Occupational Therapy, and that’s what I received.
Mason’s Occupational Therapist was a true gem who quickly won his heart. She taught him essential skills like climbing, balancing, writing, and cutting. Suddenly, he could play on the playground with the other boys and began to express himself through drawing and writing his name. She even helped him expand his palate, which felt like a small miracle. Additionally, his TSS worker was engaging, fun, and knowledgeable, encouraging Mason to interact more freely with his peers—much to my delight, even if it sometimes frustrated his teachers.
Thanks to these interventions, we saw substantial improvements. Fewer meltdowns, better social interactions, and increased interest in trying new foods became our new norm. Within just a year, Mason was discharged from OT, feeding therapy, and TSS. During his second evaluation, the doctor suggested that if he continued to progress as he had been, he might no longer meet the criteria for Autism by the end of the year.
When it was time for Kindergarten, I struggled with whether to disclose his diagnosis to the school district. The doctor had suggested he might no longer even have a diagnosis soon, so I hesitated. I didn’t want him to be labeled unnecessarily. However, just two weeks into the school year, his teacher reached out with concerns that mirrored those I had once dismissed. In that moment, everything fell into place. I realized this wasn’t about me being clever or gaming the system; Mason truly needed support to thrive in a mainstream classroom.
I quickly replied to the teacher, admitting I had severely underestimated Mason’s need for assistance. I had deluded myself into thinking that he could navigate Kindergarten on his own. After all, I believed he was brilliant—how could he not handle it? Now, we are arranging a meeting with the school psychologist to determine whether he needs Special Education services to help him follow directions and engage appropriately in class. In that meeting, I’ll need to apologize for withholding important information out of denial and fear of stigmatization.
Ultimately, I owe the biggest apology to Mason. By ignoring the reality of his diagnosis for so long, I inadvertently made it seem like something to be ashamed of. But the truth is, he is an extraordinary and complete human being. He is my heart outside my chest, and when I gaze into his eyes, I realize I have known him forever, even before he was born.
This diagnosis does not define him, but it’s undeniably a part of who he is. From reading by age two to winning a space trivia contest at four, Mason embodies a dazzling mix of quirks and brilliance. He experiences daily meltdowns and is incredibly sensitive, yet he possesses empathy that astounds everyone around him. Looking back, I can see how I missed the signs, but we do strange things when we think we are protecting our children.
So, today, I finally learned something I should have grasped long ago. It took three teachers, a psychologist, several therapists, and many tears for me to realize that while my son may not be perfect, he is perfectly himself.
The moral of my story? Facing the truth can be daunting and real, but denying it won’t make it disappear. What truly matters is the unyielding love of our family and the certainty that Mason is special and destined for greatness—even if his mom makes mistakes along the way. From this day forward, I will embrace his unique identity with pride, knowing he is an irreplaceable individual.
For additional support and insights on parenting and home insemination, visit IVF Babble for excellent resources or check out Couples’ Fertility Journey for further guidance. If you’re looking for privacy policies regarding your journey, you can find them here.