Sooooo....

It's been a while since I wrote.  I've written.  Whatever.  I need to be better about it, but am having a hard time carving out the time these days.

Andrew's services are about to increase - big time.

We received a Generation Rescue grant and are a month into that. Will be seeing a DAN doc soon.  Very anxious to get details about that and also anxious to actually go!

We petitioned our association for a fence for our wandering boy - and so far have lost.  But we have a few tricks up our sleeve.  That is to be continued.

Mostly, we've really been revelling in how well Andrew has been doing. There's a lot of appropriate playing going on, not as overwhelmed by crowds. He's looking a lot more when you call him.  (Or, when *I* call him), he's becoming more manageable outdoors.   He's happy, making so much eye contact.

I went to bed last night, after a wonderful weekend with him, including a very successful birthday party (and the first "holiday" in ages) that he participated in and seemed to really enjoy!  Most holidays lately I've cried, there's such a gap between where he is and where I want him to be.   But not this weekend.  It was beautiful.   I went to bed thinking, he's almost better, he's almost better...

And then there was therapy this morning. We had yet another assessment,   this one to build him a new ABA program, and she assessed him beginning at 0-12 months and he failed most of the questions.   Sigh.

Reality.

I asked that this time I don't need to be told his "developmental age".   It does me no good.

Tomorrow is their 2 year appointment.   Michael is coming with me and I am very thankful for that.   We will be refusing vaccinations.  I know now beyond the shadow of a doubt that Andrew's "roseola" was a severe reaction to his DTaP.   And that when I, 3 months later, allowed him to have his MMR, I sealed his fate.   The boys will not be vaccinated, not until I come to a place where I feel like I can do so without any negative ramifications.

I don't spend a lot of time being angry anymore. Not at the doctor, not at medical science, not at anyone.  Hopefully that part of the grief process is over for me.   I've become much better at living moment by moment with my boy, demanding as much from him as I can, and enjoying his successes.