Undiagnosed #Autism and #Aspergers - I am NOT concerned

Have you seen these stats being passed around social media sites? I have, but I'm not as concerned as some. Let me explain.

I doubt that the statistics for autism have risen as drastically as many claim. I say this because there are millions of adults who have high-functioning autism (known as Asperger's Syndrome) who were never diagnosed as kids. That's because the awareness of this was not known. In fact, Asperger's Syndrome was not added to the DSM until 1994. Now, Asperger's has been removed and falls under the umbrella of autism. 

Do you know an adult who is odd? Rude without meaning to be? Blurts things out inappropriately? Someone who seems to alienate people and has no clue as to why? Someone who can't stand certain noises, textures, wearing socks, etc.? Chances are you know plenty of people with undiagnosed autism.

The majority of people with Asperger's Syndrome are brilliant, talented, and highly knowledgeable. You will find them working as engineers or other specialists where brains count more than social skills.

I am concerned about America's unhealthy foods, GMOs, et.al. I am concerned about obese and sedentary children, food allergies, and asthma. I am concerned about the severe form of autism. But about the increase in the diagnoses of autism? I am not concerned. I am thrilled that we are able to recognize this and help those affected.

I am relieved that someone who is different, odd, or socially inept can be helped and acknowledged. How great to give this constant struggle an actual diagnoses.

For so many of the adults who grew up living with parents and teachers and peers who called them names and blamed them for things they could not control. For all the isolation and self-hatred this has engendered in them. I am thankful for the increase in diagnoses.

Day 03. Something You Have to Forgive Yourself For

Well, this up my alley since guilt is my primary emotion. It's also my secondary emotion. Add motherhood to that tendency and the list of things I have to forgive myself for is constantly adding up.

The first big parenting mistake I made still haunts me.

When I became pregnant with my oldest child, at age 28, I was determined to do everything right. I was older than average for a first-time mom, and I had had some time to observe those around me. I had traveled the world, earned two college degrees, and accomplished a fair amount of professional success. I was ready to be a mom.

Of course, I planned to breastfeed my child for a year at least. I didn’t have any bottles or formula on hand because I had no intention of needing them. When my baby was born (twelve days after the due date), a lactation consultant came into my room and taught me how to properly nurse my baby. The next day, we went home. And he cried all night.

He wouldn’t nurse. He wouldn’t sleep. And he just didn’t look right. His fontanel was sunken. He just screamed and screamed. And I was completely exhausted and terrified. It didn’t occur to me that he would be starving yet. My brain was running on empty.

The next day, around noon, a nurse called to check on us. I told her the baby wasn’t eating or sleeping and she told me to bring him to the emergency room. It was good that she called. I had been waiting for my mom to come (she was planning to come over that evening) and it might’ve been too late if I had waited.

My baby, who was born at 8 pounds, 14 ounces, weighed just 7 pounds, 8 ounces at three days old. The inside of his mouth was dry. And my milk wasn’t in. It broke my heart to see him latch right onto a bottle and drink thirstily. He was contentedly asleep in minutes.

My milk came in a few days later, but my baby was by then accustomed to the bottle. For the next few months, I pumped breast milk around the clock and to feed to my baby. When he was four months old, he finally began to nurse and continued to do so until after his first birthday. Breastfeeding that baby was the best accomplishment of my life.

But, when I think of the first few days of his life, I cringe. He is a bright kid, who struggles with a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, a mild form of autism. The cause of Asperger’s is not known. Whether it is biological or environmental, or a mixture of the two, is not fully known. I tend to think it’s mostly biology, since my son has relatives with the condition.

But I do wonder about the rough start he had.