One More Week.

I think we always knew deep down that there were deeper obstacles than merely a speech delay, but it was difficult to put in to words. When people would make comments, I would say 'She's tired' or 'she's shy.' It was easier that way. Easier than thinking that GOD might have designed a different path for our lives. I don't know why I always covered up the meltdowns, the blank stares, the covering of the ears, the refusal to acknowledge a visitor. Maybe it was easier? Easier than thinking about reality. Easier than explaining 'I don't know why she does the things she does.' I think as a parent, you wear guilt around your neck. When the subject 'Why doesn't she talk' would come to the surface, my cheeks would turn red, my  eyes would fill with tears, and in the back of my  mind I would think, 'I don't know.... But maybe it's me.' Maybe I didn't teach enough. Did I spend enough time with her? Should I have read more books at bed time? Should I have talked to her more? Sang songs? What did I do wrong?

And everyone will tell you 'It isn't your fault...' But still, deep inside, you struggle with wondering if it really is. If you could have done something, changed something, fixed something.

I don't know if things have regressed or if we are on a decline or if I am just now noticing things, but this week was the toughest I/we have had in a long time.

After a great deal of research, I have learned that most of the struggles this week are normal. It's been a violent, meltdown kind of week.. And it breaks my heart... Because I don't know how to fix it right now. How to make it better. I try and take her in my arms, tuck her little body in as close to me as I can get it, kiss her forehead, rub her face, tell her it will be okay. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't..

And I think that's the hardest part.

Some days, you just aren't enough to stop her from feeling lost... Scared... Confused.

Some days my cuddles don't work. Some days, soft spoken prayers don't soothe.

Some days are harder than others.

And I know that's okay-- it's parenting in a nut shell honestly whether your child is 8, 16, or almost 4 on the spectrum.

I always end my blogs with the thought-- autism doesn't define my baby. She is much greater than a diagnosis.

But, autism affects my daughter. It affects my life. It affects our family's life.

I am so anxious for February 2nd because I feel like even then we will have more answers. My hearts desire is to help her.. Learn the skills.. The patience.. The understanding.. To help her.

 One more week and we know more. One more week...