Cover Your Ears: My Toddler’s Autism Diagnosis During RFK’s Timeline
“Back when my sons were little, I would grab a roll of masking tape and bind their wrists behind their backs so they couldn’t move and tell them they were under arrest. Then, all I had to do was show them the masking tape and they’d start acting right.”
This comment came from the man behind me at the grocery store on Mother’s Day morning. My husband did not get home from work until 6 AM that morning, which meant that I did not exactly get breakfast in bed and the “rot” time I normally would. I decided Graham and I would be productive, so we had breakfast at Waffle House, vacuumed my car, and then headed to the store to buy fresh flowers to give to the women in my family.
I turned around and gave this man a tired and awkward half-smile and just said, “Okay.” I wasn’t sure what prompted his unsolicited advice. Graham wasn’t misbehaving. He was stuck in what we call a little “glitch.” He saw the cooler at checkout and wanted a soda. He knew I was not going to get him one, so he just kept repeating, “We have green drinks at home.”
“I mean, it’s better than beating the daylights out of him,” the man said after I didn’t give him the heartfelt response I guess he thought he deserved. I guess I agreed with that point. My main objective was to get out of the melee of the Mother’s Day crowd as soon as possible. He did not let me go without insisting on reading the Taylor Swift quote on my shirt, then telling me he “hates her politics.”
Graham and I get a lot of advice and comments from strangers. However, I am on higher alert since he was diagnosed with autism a few weeks ago. I feel like a cat with her back arched, ready to pounce.
When Graham was 2, he had a slight speech delay. His doctor set up early intervention and had put us on the waiting list for a renowned clinic that tested for autism. A year and a half later, when Graham’s speech delay had all but vanished, we were given an appointment time.
Part of me considered canceling. Graham has a wonderful vocabulary. Still, my gut told me to keep the appointment. There were other signs of autism that we noticed. He covers his ears when he feels overstimulated. He used to bash his head into walls when he got upset. He has hearty social skills with adults but does not always interact well with other children. He doesn’t do an appropriate level of what doctors consider “imaginative play.” He can also be both obsessive and repetitive. For me, these are what I consider “normal” traits for an almost four-year-old, but even though Graham has consistently improved in these areas, I wanted to know if it went beyond the typical toddler behavior.
My other hangup about having his observational appointment was that RFK had just made his statements about creating a “registry” for children with autism, and that autistic children will not “have jobs” or “play team sports,” and other ignorant statements. He is a vile human, but one with power. In the end, we did not want to avoid the appointment and risk depriving Graham of what he needs.
Graham was observed by a child therapist and a pediatrician while my husband and I were in the room. The appointment took nearly 3 hours. It was surprising and somewhat distressing that they could diagnose Graham in that short period of time, but his actions in that room reflected nearly all the traits we were concerned about. He did not want to play with the therapist at first. He got angry a couple of times. He also got repetitive when he wanted to play with my purse and keys and I said no. (He is currently obsessed with purses and keys. The word “obsession” is not hyperbole in this case. He wakes up talking about purses and keys, asks for them throughout the day, and goes to bed talking about them.)
Within a week, I was on a one-hour Zoom call where the pediatrician explained why they decided to give Graham an official diagnosis. I cried the entire call. I was embarrassed because I could not stop. It was overwhelming. She was talking about the spectrum and the different scientific variants that brought them to that conclusion. They could offer me zero comfort about the current political rhetoric surrounding autism. At the heart of everything, I want Graham to know that he is loved, and I want him to have a giant support circle because my husband and I both have that.
Since finding out, my emotions have simmered. I have also discovered that people are going to say out-of-pocket things in response. I told one of my fitness instructors at the gym. I’ve grown to trust her, and she loves Graham and always lets him come sit in the room while we exercise. However, I live in Alabama, where right-wing conspiracies are rampant. She immediately told me it was vaccines. She said, “Agree to disagree if you want.” I said, “I disagree.” It was awkward for a minute, and in the end, she said that Graham is welcome to come to any of her classes, but still, it didn’t sit right with me. I thought about the researchers who have spent decades researching autism and vaccines, and then, because of a handful of unqualified scientists throwing out a theory on a whim, vaccines are suddenly the reason my kid is autistic.
It isn’t just random strangers; even my aunt’s response was, “He’s like Rainman!” The thing is, I don’t know why I’m on the defensive. I don’t love my son any less. I am unashamed. I want him to have what he needs. I want to provide him with all the love in the world. I don’t know if I’m operating under my own stereotypes or insecurities. I have already had thoughts of gratitude that Graham is not non-verbal or that things “could be worse.” These thoughts feel grimy, and I’m sorry. We are still learning. I imagine we will be learning for years to come.
I am not sure how Graham’s place on the spectrum will impact his future, or how children with autism and other learning differences will be treated in the next decade. What I do know is that I will never bind Graham’s hands behind his back. He will be free to wave them around however he sees fit.
About the Author
Heather Wyatt is a writer and English instructor living in Birmingham, Alabama with her son, husband, and dog. She teaches at Jefferson State Community College, where she is also the editor of their literary magazine Wingspan and she is the director of the Red Mountain Reading Series. Her first book, My Life Without Ranch, a non-fiction combo of self-help and memoir, was published in 2018 by 50/50 Press. Her poetry chapbook Call My Name, released in 2019, is available from The Poetry Box. Her poetry, essays, and a short story have been featured in numerous journals since 2006. Most recently, her work has appeared in journals like Jokes Review, Number One: A Literary Journal, A Walk with Nature: Poetic Encounters that Nourish the Soul, Perspectives Magazine, The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review, Robot Butt, The Syndrome Mag, and High Noon. She received her bachelor’s degree in American studies from the University of Alabama, her MFA in Poetry from Spalding University in Louisville, KY, and her EdD is in progress at the University of West Alabama.
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