A Cry For Help

"Why don't I just kill myself then? I'm too f***ing weird to be alive!!"

That was the anguished cry that exploded from my youngest son, Tanner. It was October 2006. My 12 year old son had been struggling for 3 years to cope in school and I was struggling to find a way to help him. And it had all culminated on this one Fall morning, when he could cope no longer. It started a journey that at first upended my entire family and called into question everything I knew about parenting my children and slowly, over time has drawn my children and I closer than I had ever imagined.

I had mentioned for years to doctors and teachers that my youngest baby seemed to be autistic, that his behaviours and idiosyncracies all led me to believe he may be autistic. I was told that he couldn't be. That he was going through developmental phases, that he was lazy, that he had ADHD, that he had a learning disability and needed to be placed in the class designed for those children. I heard it all from the people that should have known better. As far as I knew, you had low-functioning autism or you didn't. That there was an Autistic Spectrum was news to me.

I had taken all I could. My child was at rock bottom. Did I think he would really go so far as to commit suicide? No. The blunt questions I asked him told me that he was crying out for help in the only way he knew how. He needed my attention and he had picked a darn good way to get it. I called the school, trying to tell them that he really needed to be moved out of the class he was in. He was over-loading in an environment that was completely ill-suited to his needs. I was met with a resounding "NO". I was told he was being manipulative, that he didn't like school and was playing me. I wept. I swore. I took him to the doctor, who told me he needed to be medicated. I took him to the children's mental health clinic. I was met with "if the doctor says, what makes you think....?" We were both crushed. I cried, he withdrew even further.

I went home, not knowing where to go next. My answer came from the oddest place, a television drama that mentioned something called "Asperger's Syndrome" and what that is. I ran to the computer and typed the name. I started reading. I read for 2 days. In amongst the list of characteristics was my Tanner. It was unmistakable. I bought book after book and read them all. I researched the Internet, watched videos, printed binders full of information. Within 4 days we were back at the mental health clinic and this time we didn't leave until I was heard and an appointment with a therapist was scheduled. I called the school. What I told them surprised even me. Tanner was not going to be coming back to school until I had an IPP meeting with the staff and therapist and he was moved to a mainstream class. They asked if I would like to be reported to the truancy advisor. I told them they could go right ahead, I called her myself and told her why he would no longer be in class. He was out of school for 3 weeks before they finally took me seriously.

In the meantime I had read books on Asperger's, advocacy, the laws governing the federal, provincial and municipal levels of education. I had become a force to contend with. (Not bad for an extremely shy woman who previously had nearly cried whenever she had to attend a simple parent teacher interview) And Tanner had calmed down and was slowly returning to the child that we all adored. He saw a therapist at the clinic and she had a pediatric psychiatrist who specializes in Autistic Spectrum Disorders come from another city to meet with him. Before that happened we had arranged for him to be back in a mainstream class with modifications that I had specified. He was doing far better than he had in years. In February 2007, he was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome and a severe non-verbal learning disability. It had taken 11 long years of trying to get someone to see what I saw in his behaviour and to finally get some answers.