Been a while...

...but life is getting to be 'normal' - whatever that is. :-)

The appointments with the developmental pediatrician were interesting. The first appointment was an interview with my husband and I. She asked us countless questions, some of which made sense, some of which didn't, but we answered them all.

How's her attention span? What kinds of words does she say? Does she have 'pretend' play? What's her favorite toy? Does she sleep well? Does she ever have a conversation with you? How do other kids respond to her?

We were there for about an hour and a half. When we walked back down the row of town houses, I felt like I'd just done an hour and a half of Tae-Bo. I'd asked the doctor about Sensory Processing Disorder, but she dismissed it as something people say when they don't want to say 'Autism.' I didn't really know what to think. The doctor did harp on her attention span a great deal. I wagered to myself that we'd be told that Kaia had Attention Deficit Disorder and I fantasized about that moment and what I would say.

"She's two. Of course she has ADD!" At that point I'd stomp out of the room with my quirky daughter and seek a second opinion.

The next appointment was an observation of my daughter. She was told to play with certain toys and perform certain tasks like kicking a ball, and hopping down from a stair step. The doctor was amazed at how well she knew certain things like her colors and letters, also how adept she was at doing puzzles, but still she focused on my daughter's short attention span. The chances of winning my bet with myself looked better and better.

The third appointment had to be rescheduled due to a work conflict on my part. My husband couldn't make it, and I couldn't get a babysitter, so I had to take my girl with me. At this point, I still expected the ADD diagnosis. I *hoped* for, "No, Mrs. Leavitt, everything is fine! It's good that you are so concerned about her well being, but she's fine." As it turns out, I got neither.

I parked the car and walked with my daughter to the doctor's home office. It was fall and the leaves were turning. Red, gold, orange - stunning - the quiet neighborhood like one you'd see in a movie. My daughter picked up a maple leaf and twirled the stem in her pudgy fingers.

"Maybe when we are done here, we can go to the park." I said. She looked up at me and smiled.

When we got into the doctor's office, I apologized for having my girl with me, but the doctor just smiled and pulled out some toys for her to play with. We reviewed her report, and I nodded and smiled as she outlined what she saw and asked if I agreed. Nothing she said was exaggerated or wrong. This process seemed to go on for a while and I started to feel like she was building me up for something. She complimented how well my daughter did this or that, how cute and social she was. Each weakness was couched in at least two strengths, which made me feel proud, but suspicious.

Maybe it's just me, I thought. She's about to tell me my girl is fine and I'm just an over-worried mother. After all, she is my first and so far, only. I've never done this before. Please, please tell me that everything is ok.

The tears were already welling up when she told me that my daughter, my ten fingers, ten toes, cherubic daughter was on the autism spectrum.