Autism Evaluation Day - Peace of Autism

I received a call from a nice scheduler at our local hospital, my heart stopped for a minute. Was this finally the call? The scheduler said “we have a new doctor that will be starting soon. It will be at a location that is a little far from you, but if you are open to driving, we can get you scheduled.” Before she could finish, I immediately said “yes.” I would have driven two states for my son to secure that appointment. After months and months of waiting, we finally had a date for our son’s appointment with the developmental pediatrician for his autism evaluation.

The week before our son’s appointment, we interviewed some potential nannies.

We had been navigating childcare issues for what seemed like years.

A young girl from a small town, which I liked, said she would be here on that Monday to watch our daughter while we took our son to his appointment. Her first day with us not our first day with a new nanny.

The night before the appointment, with absolutely zero information about how this would go, I was a nervous wreck. Sleep was in short supply, and my A personality was having a fit, not knowing what my son was about to experience or if we would get any answers.

At 6:00 A.M. that Monday, I got a text saying that our new nanny decided to decline the position. I had two kids to get ready and to get out of the house, so there was no time to spiral over this text. I thought that’s ok. There will be two of us we can handle both kids. Our daughter was less than one at the time and only slightly mobile.

We drove to the faraway location for the appointment and walked into an empty waiting room, which I was grateful for. I began to try and check our son in on the wall monitor, but his name wasn’t coming up. I walked over to the receptionist and calmly let her know that my son’s name wasn’t coming up on the monitor. She said she would check into it, and to have a seat until she figures it out. As I sat down, my husband discovered that our daughter had a poopsplosion up her back and all over her clothes. I took over watching our son, as my husband went to change the baby.

I sat for a brief moment taking our son in, as he explored the new surroundings. As the room itself faded to the background, I wondered what the impact of this appointment would be. What new world would we all be walking into?

I could hear the receptionist call down to the scheduling office. They explained that our appointment was booked at the downtown location, but we would still be seen if we could drive over there now. Ok, I thought, we got this, a 30-minute drive they said they would still see us. No big deal. I crashed into the bathroom, navigating our son and all the stuff we brought with us, to tell my husband we needed to drive across town.

As we walk through the giant hospital downtown, both kids entertained by the colorful lights and the floor decorated for children, I thought to myself again, this will be ok. No one is crying, we have a freshly changed baby, and they have managed to keep our appointment even through the scheduling issues.

We walk into the second waiting room, much larger than the first. I completely skipped over the monitor and walked up to the front desk. The receptionist told us to wait, and someone would come out to speak to us. I thought that was odd because they didn’t take any of our insurance information. But no big deal they had cartoons playing, and we had some snacks we could feed the kids.

We waited about 15 minutes, and another person came to speak to us, to let us know that the appointment was actually at the first location. The receptionist covering did not know that they had started seeing developmental pediatrician clients. There was also a glitch in scheduling, and they told the receptionist the wrong information.

As I held myself together, barely, the women relaying the information could see my furry, sadness, and brewing emotions coming to the surface. She said I will be right back.

A man with an extremely calm demeanor, the office manager I think (he introduced himself with his title, but I was so angry I did not catch it), walked up to us. He asked if it would be ok if we went to a back room. I am guessing seeing my husband who is 6’3’’, the tall dark and handsome type, and me on verge of a complete emotional breakdown he thought it would be more appropriate not to be in the crowded waiting room when he again delivered the same information.

My husband calmly slipped his hand on my shoulder and carted the kids to the back room.

My husband, who is generally better on the front end with these types of situations, was very calm and waited out what we would need to do next. I started to speak and choked through the word that this situation was ridiculous. That we had waited months for this appointment.

My heart was screaming as my mouth formed each word.

The office manager explained that the pediatrician said she could fit us in for the appointment tomorrow afternoon.

I began to feel suffocated in that room.

What options did we have, wait several months to get back in. We accepted the next day appointment, the office manager gave us his cell phone number, and I bolted out of the room.

Half way through the waiting room, I started to cry. Crying for all the lost months, for the emotional preparation of weeks of wondering, for having to come back the next day and start over again, and for another day of uncertainty.

As we stepped into the elevator, I completely lost it. My husband wrapped his arms around me and held me. It had been a very tough year on us as a couple, and it was nice to be able to come to a commonplace that was familiar to us both. At that moment, I needed it.

I snapped out of my despair, as mothers often due, with a small request from our son. We had been out of the house for several hours, both children were hungry for a meal, and our son was generally confused about what we were doing that morning. I pulled myself together as much possible, and we started the long walk back to the parking garage.

Looking back, maybe I needed to cry in that elevator. I had spent hours watching our son, taking a tally on my imaginary checklist, wondering how to process what was coming next, lost in the what if’s and why’s. My soul carried the weight of the waiting and wondering. I walked into that next day appointment with a quiet calmness. We did not leave with a for sure answer, but we were one step closer, and that was more then we had the day before.