When a Doctor Poorly Delivered Our Diagnosis, This Is How I Responded


“I have some very bad news to tell you.”

Those were the words that started the avalanche. The head psychologist of the early intervention program in our county said them to us after our 2-year-old son, Coby, endured a 4-hour-long evaluation. As my husband and I sat in the room in stunned silence, the doctor continued: “Your son is severely autistic and mentally retarded.” I’m sure she said other things after that, but neither of us actually heard them.

After a solid week of crying, I decided to pull myself together. Whatever this “thing” was called didn’t matter. What mattered most was that we would get our child the help he needed and try to prove this psychologist wrong. So we started speech and occupational therapy and lots of work at home. When Coby was 3 years old, he entered the school system and was incredibly lucky to have the most amazing teacher on the planet. We slowly realized our Coby was actually smart and had a super high IQ. Did he still have autism? Sure, but so what?

Fast forward ten years, and our younger son, Liam, was in the same boat. I saw the signs early on, and I was ready. When we went in for the evaluation, I was ready to fight. But then something incredible happened. A calm and peace came over me. There was no need to fight. This little angel who was my son yesterday, is still my son today. The diagnosis didn’t change a thing. I said the word over and over again: “Autism, autism, autism, autism…” I waited for the tears to come, for the period of anger and mourning, but they never did. I learned something important: Acceptance. I also learned that the experts are not always right about their prognosis. They get a few hours with a child who may be tired, frightened or just having a bad day. My children have autism, but autism definitely does not have them.

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