the label

So I knew I'd have to have a post about this eventually. I've thought about it alot, about how it transpired, my reaction (both public and private - and believe me they were initially quite different!!) and about what message I want to convey three years into the label.

Of course I'm referring to Max's autism. I'm dwelling on the word, the label, and how it fits Max... how he wears it. And truly, how we all wear it, and how it fits our family.

Max was 2 1/2 when his teacher first approached us with some concerns. I couldn't hear her, my ears closed, and I walked out of that meeting, knowing that Max had autism. Let me say further, that although his teacher never once uttered the word autism during that meeting, my heart screamed it at me.

I argued with myself for weeks - Max was fine. There was nothing wrong with him. I attributed the whole situation to Max's teacher being new and her just not taking the time to connect with him. All of my friends jumped on board the denial train too - Max was just quirky! He didn't flap his hands in the corner, and although he was certainly an anxious little guy, he was great with people he knew, so how could he have a pervasive developmental disorder??

The long and short of it, which you all know, is that Max has autism. Or Max is autistic. Here comes the catch. Saying that Max has autism is very different from saying he is autistic... Max has autism simply extends the definition of Max to include his autistic traits. It is part of who he as an individual is. Saying that Max is autistic is akin to saying that autistic is all he is, or that he is autistic first, and a lovely, charming little boy second. So not true!!!

I don't generally label Max. When I introduce him to people, I introduce my son. My boy. Typically most people don't even notice the autism. Yet it's a stamp on his shirt that he will have to figure out how to wear. I hope that it's proudly and loudly... and that he knows his mum always saw her boy before the label.