"D" for Diagnosis

I don't think we were ever surprised by the diagnosis. Somewhere instinctively, we both felt that Liam was different - a seemingly bright little boy who preferred his own company and quietly observed the world. He is our only child, and to this day I still think we listened a little too long to all the well-meaning advice about raising a child.

"It's just a maturity thing"; "Nothing wrong there, he's just a typical little lad"; "Children go through phases" - All the while, tolerating Liam's quips and quirks wondering how parenting all of a sudden got so hard and did we take a wrong turn somewhere? Or was this all a brief detour?

Our journey into autism started when we discovered Liam in his bedroom reading Beatrix Potter by himself. He was three and his reading was impeccable. I had always read to him from the day he was born, but these were books I had never unearthed from the wardrobe feeling they were too advanced for him. It bothered us that despite Liam's love and automatic recognition of words, he couldn't hold a conversation with us; didn't appear to comprehend what the string of words meant and looked very blank (although brow creased in serious thoughtfulness) when asked Why? What? and Where?

And so, it was off to Speech therapy and the ball (gathering no moss) rolled on from there .....