By the third one, one would assume the drill was pretty routine, but it was not. The thing was the emotion was different. This pregnancy was not planned and, apart from having given away the crib, the car seat, and expensive pram, I now had a 5-year-old child with special needs. The thought of another child, who may also be at risk, was frightening to say the least.
My 5-year-old had been diagnosed with autism the year before, and amongst the trips to the occupational professional, speech professional, and the daily behavioral support program, I hadn't really processed the reality of what a child with autism meant for the long term. Now, faced with a possible second child with autism, I was overwhelmed with what that might mean for our family emotionally and financially. My second son, who was now 4, had escaped unscathed from the clutches of autism, so it was possible to side-step the condition, but there were no guarantees.
My oldest, at age 5, was more than 2 years behind in his speech and needed OT support for low muscle tone, midline issues, and coordination. Apart from his speech being needs-based and only in 2-word phrases, such as "want food," we had significant behavioral issues: the tantrums, the meltdowns at the change in routine, the obsessive interest in Thomas the Train, and violent reactions to sensory stimuli such as being rained on or hearing a balloon pop. Yes, they made a lot of money out of us. Those early years were tough on us, and hearing that 80% of marriages where there was a child with autism end in divorce didn't help either.
I sat in my endocrinologist's office. I had just had my second radiation for thyroid cancer following successful cancer surgery the year before. At my check-up, I told my specialist that I was overly tired and feeling very emotional. She attributed it to stress, as all good doctors do, and said she would monitor me over the next few weeks.
It turned out monitoring was not necessary, as the cause for the tiredness turned out to be: surprise, I was pregnant. I was completely thrown. Calculating back, the time of conception was just before my radiation. Now, apart from the risk of a child with autism, what would radiation do to my developing baby?
I cried and cried hard. I didn't feel we could share the news of the pregnancy with anyone, anticipating the "congratulations!" and "wow, that's fantastic" which would come from supportive friends. I could only feel desperate.
Waiting through his first year was stressful, as we looked for any emergent signs of autism. Various professionals kept an eye on him and, as the months passed, I allowed myself to relax. Autism had passed him by. Now at age 6, he remains fit and healthy and eager to start grade R.
My oldest, who has autism, is now 12 and is also mainstreaming with his peers. He will finish grade 6 in 2012. As a result of his diagnosis in 2004, I added to my psychology background and am now a behavioral consultant supporting children on the autism spectrum. Starting out with a new client always pulls on my emotions as I remember our adjustment to autism, but I can confidently tell those new clients that children with autism can learn and, with the right support, some are capable of mainstreaming.