Before I go into details in this post I feel it is important to emphasize that I am no expert on the matters of autism but merely a mother whose son has been diagnosed and is likely to get a diagnosis for the other one too. Hence, my writings are but accounts of that experience and how it affects the family. One important aspect of that is how all this affected my husband and I in different ways.
It had been a few days since our older son, JA, had been diagnosed with autism and we’d been online ever since, reading everything we could get a hold on about the condition. At first, the main goal was to methodologically go through everything that had been written about autism spectrum disorder (ASD) as to provide some proof that JA did not really fit within the autistic spectrum. We were still very much in the denial phase, not willing to simply accept the verdict without a fight. But as the research went on, the reading became increasingly mixed with dread. The ice cold suspicion slowly sneaked up on us like a fog that at first seems innocent but abruptly becomes so thick that you can’t find your way out. Could it really be?
