We watched. Thinking, hoping that the odds that are daughter, a girl for crying out loud, would not get this disorder that effected mainly boys. I mean, what were the odds.
Well, pretty darned good.
What were our signs? Less obvious then Isaac's. She smiled, laughed, made (and still makes) great eye contact. She just didn't really talk. And then the stimming started. Loud oral noises, the sound of sharp intakes of breath over tongue and teeth. She was not quite two when we finally made the inevitable appointment to have her diagnosed. And soon after, there was some regression in her social behavior and eating habits. She ignored her friends, and basically stopped eating solid food.
I am sure I cried a bit. I am sure I cracked open a few bottles of wine. I am sure, just as with Isaac, I went through a small mourning period, when I had to let go of the child I thought I would have and accepted the child that I did have. Still, I don't remember it quite clearly. At this point I was ass-deep in getting Isaac into a good space, and signing O up for all of the speech and occupational therapy needed, basically taking care of the business of autism. For two. This would just have to be our version of "normal" for now.