I'm Drowning In Autism...Toss Me a Life Saver, Eh?

Dear Autism:

I don't blame vaccines for you being in my life.
I don't even blame French fries and the chicken nuggets we let our kids eat once a week or so.
I don't even blame those little pesticides in fruits and veggies I buy and I don't hate myself for not buying organic every single time.
I'm adopted - so I can't really blame my genetics and my husband was raised in such a small town that the doctors wouldn't know what autism was if it knocked on their doors.  Of course times have changed over the decades...

But after an intensive conversation with a psychologist (which we had to wait over two and a half months for - she's that popular/busy/covered by Kela), two day-care teachers and a day-care teacher that specializes in special needs kids - I'm fucking done.

I'm so fucking mad - you have no idea.  Well, of course you do because you're the bastard that took away my precious first boy's voice.  His chance at explaining himself.  His ability to make friends.  His chance at not being stared at every time we go outside for a walk or to run a simple errand like picking up milk.  His chance at being the real big brother - which is now being overtaken by the middle child.

Today, I had this intensive meeting that was planned months in advance - but this time it was for A-Man.
Yes - the same A-Man that loves to stare at cars and buses and announce their arrival loudly and slightly mispronouncing "trucks".  The same A-Man that loves to shop for underwear and cook meals with me and give hugs and kisses.  The A-Man that lately has been having melt-downs over the most petty of things like leaving a bus stop without seeing the bus drive away and waving it good-bye.  And therefor will not budge and if a ritual of his is broken - his world explodes.
The A-Man who doesn't make a conversation with me - in any language.  The A-Man who wakes up everybody with his weekly (if not more regular) night terrors.
The A-Man who refuses to eat anything but junk and bread with butter or cream cheese at home - but at day-care eats anything and a lot of the things the other kids don't like.  Often four portions worth.
The A-Man who doesn't actually play with other kids with toys and occasionally joins in a game of chase.  I found out today he's pretty protective of the toy stove at day-care.  Just like at home - pushing away the V-Man because it's his territory.
The A-Man with balance, strength and motor skills that blow the teachers away - and haven't been seen in a child his age but like in the V-Man.
The A-Man that can potty and wait in lines for things - with the promise of having a cookie at the end of a trip.

The A-Man that now needs an appointment at the neurological clinic because he's showing signs of not ADHD or OCD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) as I first suspected - but more so of autism. 
This was my second appointment with the psychologist in less than 6 months.  But because of what everything everyone was saying (and yes, there was a translator) - it does seem that a transfer of day-care centers might help (smaller group - kids more his age) and specialized instructors can hopefully help too.
But we'll see once we get the neurology appointment and I'll keep you updated.

I'm mad.  I'm crying.  I don't know what to expect.
On one hand, I'm thrilled that A-Man is fully potty-trained and can speak a bit.  I'm also thrilled that we live in Finland and I know he'll get amazing care and assessments like the V-Man did.
The other hand is ready to devour a bag of chips, a few chocolate bars...  And slap you in your ugly damn face.

Instead - I'll go make some dinner.  And do my Finnish homework.
Sincerely yours,
One Stumped Mama (BIMU)

PS Thanks for reading and when I'm in a better mood - I'll write a more detailed post.