Good News is Still Crappy

The good news is that all talk of "maybe we shouldn't be married anymore" has faded. (If you call THAT good news). It's not that H and I looked at each other and fell madly in love. It's just that, well, we love our kid. And he's in trouble.

So. The diagnosis is PDD-NOS. Which means "We think you're kid's autistic, but we don't know why." Autism Lite, a friend called it.

Christ.

So the good news (and again, I'm being pretty lose with the term 'good' here) is that the thought is if we can get Spunx 30 or 40 hours of therapy in the next few years, he may be able to be able to transfer into a mainstream kindergarten. Maybe.

Yikes.

And yes, that was not a typo. Thirty or forty hours a week of therapy. Some speech, some OT, some Play therapy (my kid needs to be taught how to play). Some Physical Therapy, as well.

Christ.

I'm not sorry I had him. Not that you that thought I felt that way. But just so its said.

God it just hurts. And when I'm done hurting, I feel angry. Then I go back to hurting. Full cycle.

The good news (does "good" have any real meaning anymore? I think not...) is that Lito's preschool will be paid for. Of course, it has to be a special needs preschool. And they'll even pick him up and drop him off.

Yay?

He doesn't look at me. He doesn't call me Mommy. (Not that he's snubbing me. He doesn't look at anyone. And he doesn't call anyone anything).

The IF dream is simple, but escalating. First it's to get pregnant, then to stay pregnant. Then to give birth to a healthy child. And ultimately to be called Mommy. To get the crappy handmade gifts for Mother's Day that wil always be cherished. To kiss the boo boos.

I don't get the whole dream. And I feel sorry for myself. And then I feel sorry for Spunx.

And then it hurts.

Full cycle.