It took a day or two to digest what Aunt Merry Ann discussed with me about Savannah. She used the word, "autism". I was trying really really hard to find explanations for why she acted a certain way.
- She parrots what you say because she is confirming what you said.
- She answers you with lines from Disney movies b/c she loves Disney movies and she is clever enough to find lines from movies to answer you.
- She doesn't look you in the eye b/c she doesn't want to.
- I used to spin around and around too, when I was her age.
- Vacuum cleaners and super loud noises freak the forever-living-daylights outta me too!
I reassured myself that because Aunt Merry Ann had been retired so long from teaching Kindergarten she couldn't possibly remember what small children were supposed to act like even though she had small grandchildren. No flippin' way! Uh uh. No, it wasn't possible. She was wrong!
I believed all of that for about a day. Denial is like a best friend that lets you leave the house for a concert at age 38 in 1999 in micro leopard print pants. I apologize for the visual.
I pulled up my big girl panties and made the call to have Savannah tested in Chatom. During the process, my husband was transferred to Harlingen, Texas. I decided to wait until we moved to have her tested. By that point I was ready to know. I needed some answers. Mainly, I wanted to prove Aunt Merry Ann wrong. I kept going over the explanations . excuses . explanations . excuses in my head and finally - somehow began to let go of the worry. I was thankful that she was healthy otherwise. She could walk, talk, laugh, feel happiness and be loving. But this was the true beginning of my sorrow. It was deep within. I wanted to go into my own little world too.
