About Asher

He held my hand up the stairs and through the main entrance, all the way down the hall to a sunny classroom. And then we stepped through the doorway and he let go. He let go and I instinctively stooped down to reassure him and that's when I saw that he was grinning. A big, confident smile that stretched from ear to ear; a smile that wavered for the briefest of moments – and only when he puckered up to kiss me on the lips before turning back to his teachers and his classmates and a whole new world he'll live in apart from me for nine hours a week.

I am so proud of that boy. So proud that I had to pull the car over into a strange neighborhood on the way home and put my hand over my aching, happy heart and weep with gratitude that his care has been entrusted to me.

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I haven't said anything about this here, but a couple of months ago, Dave and I met with a developmental pediatrician to discuss Asher and some of his quirkier tendencies. We laid it all out there on the table for her – it felt traitorous and underhanded, talking about him behind his back like that – but we wanted to be honest and forthcoming about our fears; about the things we had observed that we worried might not be in the appropriate normal range for a child his age. We wanted to know if there was something we needed to do. We needed to know if there was something we should seek. A therapist. A special program, maybe. Resources, books, brochures. A diagnosis.

She listened. She asked questions. She listened some more and she smiled a lot and she asked more questions and then she listened again. She was attentive and kind and knowledgeable. She was comforting and confident. She was a lot of things, but the most important thing she ended up being was Not Concerned. Asher is normal, she told us. He's quirky, yes. Oh, but he's quirky. He's also just fine. He's got a temperament that is different from most other children but it doesn't mean we should be worried. And then she happily signed our preschool forms and handed us a list of recommended reading material and we all shook hands and Dave and I finally let out the breath we'd been unknowingly holding for six straight weeks.

It's weird how the day before that appointment we were consistently looking at Asher through autism-colored glasses. Everything he did was suspect; anything that seemed remotely different than what we thought he SHOULD be doing lined up with a symptom that could point us to a spectrum diagnosis. And then the next day, with a professional opinion under our belts, it all looked so different. That's not to say that I didn't have flashes of worry still, though. I held many an internal struggle wondering if we needed more than one professional opinion. But even during the times of mental unrest, there was also an undercurrent of peace. I wanted to trust our doctor. I DID trust our doctor. I didn't want to run all over the place looking for someone who might upgrade my kid's situation to something that could be categorized; something that could be filed away in his permanent records. But was it really okay to believe her?

Many weeks later, I am more convinced than ever that she was, and is, right. Asher is not a little social butterfly. He is timid and shy. He takes a while to warm up to people. But he DOES warm up eventually. And he is thoughtful, always making sure that when he gets a cookie or a candy, everyone else around him does, too. “Can I give one to Lucy, too?” he asks. When we went to the beach a couple of weeks ago, he packed three identical Thomas trains in his backpack. “One for me, and one for Jaklin [his cousin] and Lucy, in case they want to play with one, too,” he told me. I was touched by his simple, thoughtful gesture.

If Asher had been diagnosed with something, it wouldn't have changed how we felt about him. He is no different - no better or worse, no less amazing, NO LESS LOVED - with a diagnosis attached to him. A diagnosis is nothing more than a word that defines what he needs, not who he is. I confess that it was scary thinking about all the things we might have to do – all the money, the time, the effort, all that time on the phone, scheduling appointments and wrangling with insurance reps and all the confrontation required – to make sure he got his best chance at living a happy, healthy, high-functioning life. Because isn't that all a parent wants for their child anyway? But I would have done it, if it had needed to be done. I would have done it. No regrets. No questions asked.

I watched that little boy walk into that classroom this morning and I thought my heart would burst with the emotion of watching him succeed. He is shy. He is timid. He gets anxious and nervous and he is still afraid of going too fast down a slide but he walked confidently into a classroom filled with strangers and he smiled and waved goodbye to me and I wondered why I'd ever worried about him at all. Why I'd ever saddled him with my own insecurities and frustrations about how he'd survive without my ever-present protection.

Sometimes it feels really, really good to be wrong.

Prove me wrong, Asher. Keep proving me wrong.

Comments

[Amy --- Just A Titch]

This post made me cry, not because I'm a mom and get it, but because when I was teaching, I loved having the chance to tell parents all of the amazing things their kids do when the parents aren't there. I can only imagine all the ways Asher will surprise and delight you, and how much he'll grow in the next few months. Happy for your family.

[Life of a Doctor's Wife]

So very happy for you and your whole family. For Asher.

He sounds like an amazing kid.

[Tracey]

It's not nice to make a pregnant lady cry. Love you, girl.

[stephanie]

curious, what books were recommended? :-) Go Asher!

[Maggie]

Oh Emily you're such a good mom.

[Julie B]

I absolutely loved your post - I seem to saddle my son with all kinds of diagnosis when the truth is: he's my first born and he looks at the world with an interesting perspective that sometimes leaves me breathless and teary and other times confuses me and makes me want to rush to the nearest computer and google what could possibly be wrong with him. Most days, all it takes is a good night sleep for me to digest that he is who he is and I'm lucky he's mine. Thanks for your thoughts.

[Carrie]

Beautiful post!

[Lynda M Otvos]

Really happy for your reassurance that quirky is OK !~! Hug Asher and enjoy his separateness, it's charming.

[agirlandaboy]

Asher's a champ. And so are you.

[Carmen]

From the stories you tell, I think Asher sounds amazing.

Isn't it awesome when your kids prove you wrong? Kieran is also quite timid and takes a long time to warm up. Leo's colleague asked if Kieran could be the ring bearer at her large wedding at the end of August. I said no, but Leo said yes. I was convinced that he'd never do it, would NEVER walk alone into hundreds of strange people, not without us walking up the aisle with him. But he did it. And he was awesome. My heart just about bust right out of my chest.

[tiah]

*tears*

[Jen]

*hugs* and hooray for Asher :)

[Brianna]

I've never commented before, but I recently finished reading all your archives and while I've loved many many of your posts...this one is just beautiful and I had to say so.

[Steph]

What a wonderful, involved, loving parent. You will both love preschool.

[Wiz]

This is such an amazing post! You have such a gift with words. I am so glad that Asher did so well at school!

[Erin]

I am almost 40 weeks pregnant with a little boy...and I am weeping. Beautiful post. Thank you.

[Chattycricket]

Uh.

I'm trying to leave a comment here that is full of OH EMILY and YAY ASHER and OMG but for whatever reason the letters on the keys are all blurry. I must have something in my eye.....

[Theresa]

I am at work and trying to keep my eyes from overflowing! That is truly love for your child and I think it's beautiful that you shared it with your readers. Asher is so sweet and considerate and I hope he keeps that when he marries some lucky girl in the future.

[Nora]

It's too early for tears, but i'm fighting them back anyway! What a great perspective you have, and what a great kid Asher is. I'm so proud of him!!

[Trilby]

That was beautiful.

[Robin]

Oh....you made me cry!
What an amazing little guy

[rkmama]

Way to go, Asher!

{And you too, mama.}

[Julie]

Lovely post! Like the others, you brought tears to my eyes. I love the balance that you share with us on your blog, the bad and the good, the frustrating and the rewarding. It gives those of us who are about to have kids, a feeling that we can do it, and we can do it well. :) So, thanks!

[emmysuh]

I'm not a mom or anythiing, but I adored this post. Thanks so much for sharing it. <3

[Katie]

Wow, I loved this post. Hooray for Asher! Isn't it awesome when you are so proud of your kids you feel like your heart might just burst?
I really like how you said, "A diagnosis is nothing more than a word that defines what he needs, not who he is". Beautifully stated.
My daughter has many similarities to Asher based on what I read here and she also is blossoming at her preschool. So wonderful!
Keep up the good work!