The language used to describe the myriad of disabilities that the examiners saw in the child was fearsome in its technicality. Hearing those words in that small, dismal room from a stranger who knew nothing of who I was and kept looking at his watch did nothing to enhance my awareness of the gravity of what he was trying to convey, nor did it focus my attention on anything other than the word 'handicapped.'

    I had no idea of the meaning of the terms that were being used to describe the nature of the child's difficulties, and therefore no basis on which to form questions. My frustration at my inability to articulate the things I needed to clarify and the feeling that I was being rushed made me feel very defensive and angry and that was the perspective from which I expressed my disbelief at what I was hearing, and I'm convinced that my attitude led the psychologist to be harsher than he otherwise would have been.

    As the psychologist went on reading the verdict, I knew that there would be a new structure to my life, and could only see that it was something to fear. Would I attach too much to this little boy to keep him from being hurt? Would I have to be with him constantly and possibly begin to resent him and/or his disabilities?

    I projected a view of my other children seeing the little boy's disabilities as a burden and having their lives disrupted by my constant running to doctors, therapists and teachers.

    And in that world of fear, anger and denial, I saw myself focusing only on the child and incurring the resentment of my family and alienation of my friends.

    As I was listening to the psychologist say words that I couldn't understand, my filtering system went into double overtime and as my ears were hearing the word 'handicapped' I had terrible images of a young child being teased, rejected, never allowed to play. I saw him always seeking a safe refuge. I had found that refuge in the world of 'normal' but would he ever be able to do that?

    I was aware of fear--that both he and I would be objects of pity and derision and that as an adult he might not be able to care for himself. I was very aware that no one seemed to be interested in what was happening to the parent---she needed only to accept the verdict and do the things needed to meet the mutual goals no matter how great an effort of will it took to do.

    'Handicapped' was an abstraction. I saw 'this child' as a unique individual in a unique situation and that many of his behaviors were a result of that. But the examiners chose to see all of his unusual behaviors as handicaps. I knew that the word was not the child, but I perceived that the clinicians saw a category where I saw a human being.

    The examiners saw the child in only one small window of time in which he was in a room full of strangers and asked to perform tasks he could not do, which was the thing that led us to seek help in the first place, so they did not see him at his best. They described a child quite different from the one I lived with 24 hours a day.

    I placed a very high value on the word 'normal' because as long as I was 'normal' there was no rejection or ostracism, my place in society was safe and secure, and I would never stand out or be different from the crowd. I had never thought in the context of 'unique.'

     And so we began our journey into the world of other-than-normal. My terror was heightened by the awareness that I was my child's guide and as such had to overcome my very obvious fears and convey the message that all was going to be well.......

In the three years that have passed since that time, the saying "knowledge is power" has been reinforced a hundredfold. And in the process of obtaining that knowledge, I've come to realize that what I need to focus on is what I feel is best for my child, my family and myself---I'm not in any popularity contest. I've bucked heads with doctors, teachers, therapists, and family members and, at least for now, at the age of ten, he's doing well---catching up academically and having a great year at school. I realize this may be the calm before a very difficult pre-adolescent storm, but it's so different from what I had envisioned, that I'm just going to enjoy it with the knowledge that we've weathered this much and are tough enough to take on whatever may come along in the future.

I wish you all the best.

Home to O.A.S.I.S.