Introduction and first post! Yay!

I have decided, in an effort to keep my brain from frying with the overload of changes and information coming in and out of my world, to keep a blog about what we are going through with Dylan.  Our son has recently been diagnosed on the autistic spectrum and we are still making our way and finding out everything we can.  I am new to this, so this isn’t fancy or tech-savvy.  I curse a teensy bit when it’s the right time for a sentence enhancer, and I will shoot straight.  I may also have some typing errors, putting pen to paper or finger to keyboard, and I won’t proofread it all.  Everything I say is never meant to offend, just to keep it real.  Most people who know the real me know the heart is here under the layers of crazy and anxiety.   I’m hoping there are others out there who can either find solace, a laugh or just an understanding.  

Dylan was a blessing after thinking for the longest time we were ‘done’.  I always felt a heart tug for one more child before 40, and was able to bring my husband on board right before my 37^th birthday.  It involved a good bit of alcohol, but luckily fertility is not a fickle force with this family.  Once we found out, we started pouring over our oldest boys (11 and 8 at the time) photo albums and videos….so excited to be experiencing Elmo Live, Mickey Mouse and Dora again!  It seemed so long ago and would be such a welcome addition to a life full of basketball, Call of Duty, WWE and nerf guns.

Dylan was born on October 15, 2012, almost a week overdue.  He was on his own timetable and came a day before a scheduled induction.  Perfect in every way.  Eight pounds, eight ounces.  His brothers adored him.  We went home on schedule and thus began another adventure in raising boys.  Family of four becomes family of five….

Fast forward…..(which seems to be how life goes, doesn’t it?).  Everything about Dylan seemed to be moving along as it should.  Rolled, sat up, crawled, walked….hitting all the milestones, some even early.  One thing we noticed however, was his lack of trying to speak or communicate.  He didn’t look us in the eye often.  As we would say then, “What a serious boy you are!”  “How can we make you laugh!?”  Never gave it much thought.  I even remember once my middle boy said “How come Dylan isn’t as much fun as xx’s brother (or sister)?” It broke my heart, but honestly, I did just think Dyl Pickle (our nickname for him) was just, well, serious and independent  He would not answer to his own name or follow any direction or do any group play.  Other children made him anxious.  He was a difficult child to be around sometimes. And I say this in present tense, because when this was all coming to a head, I just thought, well this is what being a stay-at-home mom is like, I guess.  I had never stayed home with the other boys more than 4 months, and well, in 9 years, things change.  I began to crumble a bit and sought help for myself (another blog, another story!).  I will say this much - Post partum depression is real, it is treatable and it is okay to advocate for yourself. 

He didn’t cuddle, he didn’t hug.  He started to show interest in ‘routines’ that HAD to be followed.  Opening and shutting the same cabinet, touching a speck of dust in the window sill, or obsessing over the dust particles in a sun beam.  Another thing we just chalked up to him being an oddball, or ‘taking after his mother’.  I am a self-proclaimed clean freak, so even saying I have dust in my sunbeams is a step!   Several times we had to take him out of public places or find other arrangements so we could enjoy time with the older boys and not be so focused on the baby all time.  There were vacations to take, games to watch and  age-appropriate chats to be had.  But Dylan would not have it.  He even freaked out at his own birthday party and we had to take him home. It really began to make me feel guilty…. Cue the worry starting to creep in along with an intuition something was ‘off’…..