The Atticus Incident (To Tell or Not to Tell)

During our recent beach trip, the girl-child had been in the pool playing happily for awhile while I lounged pool-side with the hubs when I started hearing the voice of an annoyed mother who had obviously gone into Mother Bear mode saying loudly enough to make sure all parties heard, "Just don't worry about it, Atticus. If you say hello to someone and they don't say hello back, just don't worry about it." She was obviously worried about it, but I didn't really pay her much mind until a few minutes later she announced, "Atticus when people are rude to you, just let it go. You tried to play with her. She obviously doesn't want to play with you so just leave her alone", again in her loud enough to be heard by all, Mother Bear voice. About that time, I see my girl-child surface from a lap across the pool and yell, "I won! You came in second." Atticus (and obviously his mom) had no idea a race had begun. They thought the girl-child was ignoring him. She WAS playing with him, she just hadn't let him know. Without thinking, I hopped up from my chair before Mama Bear could make another angry comment directed towards my baby (and I assume me for being a crappy parent and not teaching my child how to treat others, from her point of view) and headed into the water and up to where Atticus and his Mama Bear stood. "What's going on? Is this about my child in the pink swimsuit?", I asked. "Well, Atticus keeps trying to play with her and she just keeps ignoring him", she replied. While the mama bear in ME wanted to reply, "Then why don't you do what you've been making sure we all could hear you tell Atticus to do, and just let it go?", I instead went into the "My Child Has Asperger's" spill and explained that social skills aren't her strong point and then tried to use the experience as a social skills lesson to get the girl-child to interact with Atticus appropriately. 

When you meet my child, you won't know that she has a "disability". She is bright, funny and exceptionally smart in many areas. She looks just like any other 8 year-old girl. She most likely will come off as just being quiet, introverted, quirky and maybe just a little rude. But in truth, she very well could have spent the whole beach trip surrounded by other kids her age and not interacted with any of them....and not cared a thing about it. That she thought she was playing with Atticus was a pretty big deal for her. 

After I had goaded the girl-child into telling Atticus "bye" and headed up to the room with her, I wondered should I have done that? Should I have made what could have been perceived as an excuse for the girl-child's actions (or non-actions)? Was it anyone else's business, especially a stranger who was, in my opinion, being rude herself? We have had the debate over to tell or not to tell over and over for the past year and a half since we first heard the "A"- word. First, it was do we tell the girl-child? We hesitated because we have never, ever, EVER wanted her to think she is in any way flawed or less than perfect. She isn't. AT ALL. Her brain is not broken. It doesn't malfunction. I even hate to refer to her as "disabled." Her beautiful little mind just works a bit differently, in it's own perfect way. We tell her that because she is SO smart, and because some things come so easy to her, other things are harder and we have to work to find the right ways for us to teach those things to her. We hesitated to tell her because we don't want her to use her diagnosis as a crutch. We don't let her get away with not finishing assignments or not doing things because they are hard. We are continuously pushing her to do things outside of her comfort zone. Her diagnosis may be an explanation, but it is not an excuse. We hesitated to tell others because of the fear of the label. We don't want her treated differently, babied or excluded because the way her mind works has a name. All of our minds work differently, after all.

We have started telling others because it is necessary. Necessary for her well-being (We feel teachers, doctors, etc. need to be informed to be able to help her best) and in all honesty, for mine, as well. When we got the diagnosis (or actually, I should say the suggestion of the diagnosis as the diagnosis itself was a long-time coming [whole nother blog]), after the initial shock and denial wore off, I started reading everything I could get my hands on about autism spectrum disorders. It was overwhelming, scary, and while some ASD traits were dead on, so much seemed not to apply to my girl-child and/or just upset me further for no good reason. The autism spectrum varies so greatly from one end to the other and I have yet to read about or meet another child just like mine. I eventually decided the books aren't for me. At least, not right now. The answers I was looking for weren't there. There is no known cause of ASD (although there are many theories). There is no cure and no definitive best treatment in any of those books. There is no roadmap. What has helped more than anything has been talking with other ASD parents. In order to find those parents, we have to speak up and say that we are right there with them and invite those parents to share with us and let us share with them. I want to read their blogs and I want them to read mine. Maybe something that has worked for us will work for them and vice versa. Maybe my blog will also help others like Atticus's Mama Bear understand the way my girl-child and others like her operate and be less ready to go on the defensive when they think one of these children is mistreating her child. 

This has been the hardest blog to figure out an ending for. Should I have raced into that pool all-guns-blazing ready to take on Atticus's mama and go bear vs. bear like something off of Wild America? Was this a "to tell" moment? I'm still not 100% sure if I made the right call. I have met parents who have chosen not to even have the testing done to obtain the diagnosis for a child they are sure is on the spectrum in an effort to avoid the labeling. They choose not to tell. I completely understand that point of view as well. We all do what we feel is best for our children. And again, we're all learning as we go.