When the Wisconsin Early Autism Project showed us our boy's CARS score... a 33... they said the words "mild to moderate autism." The rest of their babble was a distant echo. I already knew he was autistic. He had so many symptoms including the physical ones of bowel issues, yeast overgrowth and rashes of all sorts.
Our pediatrician had always told us not to worry because his eye contact is good and he likes to be touched. That's what they had said at his 18 month well-child check. Now that he's 33 months old we know differently. He flaps, he toe-walks, screeches, repeats everything, has a huge language delay... the whole nine yards.
I am so angry that I let doctors bully me into vaccinating. They manipulated my husband and I with stories of babies who they knew that died of pertussis. We caved at the thought of our babie struggling to breath. Most parents would. But still, I feel at this moment that I've got to make up for this. I have to heal my son, because I allowed them to vaccinate him. The guilt is unproductive at this point, but I intend to work through it and move on. I am of no use to my baby if I'm a mess myself. He needs me to be 100%. And I will be. We just got the news last Thursday.
I assume other parents felt this way when they heard their children's diagnosis. A toxic overload. Another canary in the colemine. My canary. I have to believe what I've been reading. That with biomedical treatment and ABA therapy, I can get my son off the spectrum. Get him the life he deserves to have.
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