My husband and I are still absorbing the probability that our “little one” has Aspergers. The more I read about it, the more I realize he must have it. It turns out, most of my family suspected it for years.
We both are dealing with feelings of sadness over facing another diagnosis and watching another child struggle throughout his life. I just want to cry.
I find myself dreading having to learn about another condition. Just the thought of starting all over again with a new syndrome feels overwhelming. I feel resentful about having to read more books, research more therapies and establish more education plans with the school. Though I know that once it’s confirmed, these are the things I will do without question.
On a bitter-sweet note, if my son does have Aspergers, we’ve been assured that there will be a world of services opened up to him. In addition, it’s a condition that people seem to accept and aren’t afraid of. People will want to help my son and will embrace his challenges. It’s something that he won’t have to hide. Unfortunately for my oldest, kids with bipolar disorder don’t have access to this kind of help or compassion.
... and this makes me mad.