I couldn't help but notice.
He made the funniest ham-faces.
At all the unexpected times.
He could sit and look at books in his room for two hours.
At the age of two.
And be totally content.
At church in the nursery, he would get a toy and crawl under a chair to play.
By himself.
At parties he would refuse to participate in the games.
His refusal to participate in any group activity was baffling.
Early play dates were confusing.
It seemed that he didn't know how to interface with other children.
His actions were not age appropriate for the toddler that he was.
I was his instant mom.
One day I got to bring home this adorable 27 month old kid.
And he was a part of the family, just like that.
He was the cutest and most precocious little boy.
The child that I had wanted for eight years.
But as an instant mom, I struggled to identify what was happening.
Yes, I knew - he was different.
But why?
Was it the neglect that he suffered in early life?
Was it his turns through foster homes?
Was he competing for attention with his high-needs sibling?
Was he just socially delayed?
Or was he just a little different than the other kids?
All I knew was that he was perfect despite his difference.
I decided to love him.
To keep taking him to play dates.
To try our hand in activities like gymnastics, swimming, and martial arts.
To start a little co-op preschool.
I provided as many social opportunities as I could.
Things didn't improve.
The differences grew.
And grew.
And grew.
The first reference to autism was hidden in a paragraph we received with him at placement.
There was a short citation of rocking, head banging and repetitive behaviors.
A previous foster family had casually mentioned a concern that he may be autistic.
Our adoption worker felt that it might be a presumptive statement.
After a couple of months I wanted a medical opinion.
I took him for a check-up and asked the doctor about autism.
The doctor listened to me patiently and then started a conversation with Charlie.
My son didn't answer any of his questions directly.
But the doctor looked at me and said that he thought Charlie was fine.
After all, he made great eye contact.
So we went on with life.
He got older.
He started preschool.
He started to get more social with others.
Mostly strangers.
He was that kid at the grocery store.
The one that wants to talk to you as you walk by.
Except Charlie would say the same thing to every person every time.
And if that person posed a question, he would stare at them blankly without response.
Sometimes he would start his "speech" from the beginning.
He had a need for everything to be just so.
Try to have a conversation with him when a toy was out of place?
He couldn't focus until it had been put back.
And if things remained out of order, he would start to go "crazy".
And literally run around the room like a pin ball inside of it's machine.
We started to notice more differences.
He would plug his ears before he flushed the toilet.
He would complain that the light was too bright every time we sat down to eat.
And then he would have a very difficult time finishing his meal.
In bed he would snuggle all the way down into the covers and bunch the blanket around him.
It was like his personal cocoon.
He would scream that we were hurting him at the slightest touch on his shoulder.
And, talk about screaming, his own personal volume was getting louder and louder.
He had almost no friends.
The friends he did have were the kindest children.
You know, the children that befriend everyone.
One day it dawned on me that he really didn't care.
To have friends, or not... it didn't seem to matter to him.
Kids, in their innocent honesty, would tell him that they don't like to play with him.
My heart would break for him.
He would just turn around and keep playing as though nothing had happened.
One day, his preschool teacher mentioned his differences.
And asked if I had discussed autism with his doctor.
I spoke with one of his social workers, as he was still a foster child.
She concurred that it was a good idea to take him back in.
Just in case.
Because, after all, he might just be different.
But maybe it was more.
So we went back.
And, again, his doctor felt that he was within normal parameters.
At the same time, he had been accompanying us on visits to his little brother's pediatrician.
That doctor seemed to notice he was different.
She would ask him questions - typical questions about Charlie's preferences.
And he would give atypical answers, every time.
And then Charlie was adopted.
He was under our insurance.
We took him for a visit to the other pediatrician.
When I asked her the autism question, she did not hesitate.
Relief.
A professional saw it too.
I had hope that there might be a name for his differences.
That we'd be able to get help.
I was oddly happy with the three referrals we received that day.
I went home and started calling people right away.
I used many search engines to try to educate myself.
I was very quickly overwhelmed.
There was a six month wait for an initial appointment with the Autism Center at Children's Hospital.
We started speech therapy right away.
Four months later we started occupational therapy.
Five months after receiving the referral, we got the call for our appointment at the Autism Center.
Suddenly, we were awash in diagnoses.
But the biggest diagnosis we received came this March.
Charlie received a provisional diagnosis for Autism Spectrum Disorder.
We now have a name for it.
He really is quirky.
He really is precocious.
He is very smart.
He is so loving.
And, he is autistic.
Today, we spend our days working on sensory integration.
We work on looking at the other children around us and analyzing their expressions.
We still work on patience. Both me and Charlie.
I am starting to understand more every day.
Yes, he is different.
And to him, this world is different.
We have made progress.
Excellent progress.
He is a very good student in therapy.
Charlie has been invited to several birthday parties this year.
When we go to preschool, kids run up to say hello to him.
He says hello back.
His teacher has commented on his improvement in class.
He has won the award for being the best listener four times since January.
He's learned how to have a reciprocal conversation.
He's learning how to fixate less.
He graduated speech therapy last week. (For now.)
We're learning how to help him be comfortable and successful.
And we're starting to realize how many things he interprets differently then we do.
And now we have more work to do.
Not just to teach Charlie how our world expects him to act.
But to teach the world about how Charlie's experience is different too.
Today is the last day of this year's Autism Awareness month.
I have struggled for months with how to share my feelings and experience with the Autism Spectrum.
They are such new emotions for me.
The story of how we got here is three years full of twists and turns.
And I doubt I did this justice.
I am so happy that I have written it down at last.
That I'm finally sharing, no matter how imperfect my words.
I truly feel that education and awareness are the best answers we have.
It is estimated that 1 in 110 children is affected by autism.
And 1 in 70 boys.
The causes are unknown and there is not a cure.
Autistic children learn how to cope with the world around them.
I hope that the world will take time to learn more about these children.
Because my charming, different son is one of them.
