ASD signs to look out for in the early years

Off the back of my mumsnet article for World Autism Day, I was asked by @mummytries who I follow on Twitter about concerns about her son and daughter, when I first suspected my son might be on the autism spectrum.

I called to mind how little jagged nags of doubt crept in early, but how I kept brushing them away. I’ve already written about how I feared I had done some damage.

Jonah was unexpected and I will still at uni, so I had had a couple of wild nights before I found out. When he was born, I looked him up and down and was relieved he looked perfect, but even his pissed off howl on entering the world seems like a clue in retrospect – he says now he wished he hadn’t been born and it breaks my heart. When the midwives said his placenta looked ragged, I felt a shard of fear pierce my heart. But in those early months, Jonah seemed fine. Oh, he was a terrible sleeper, so much so I broke down in tears with my NCT lot of four months of night howls.

Little did I know I’d have another two years to crawl through before we cracked it. People described him as serious. He doesn’t have a “chocolate laugh” my mother said, remembering her own daughters being tickled and tossed around, but I brushed off these concerns as nonsense. He might not be waving, I thought at 18 months, but he can bloody well count. He was robust and strong, walking early and fiercely independent. I felt needy for cuddles that always felt a bit awkward – even as a toddler I felt a but distant from him, and when he talked it was about funny things, which I brushed of as toddler gibberish.

Bit by bit, I began to join the dots that were forming in my mind. The tip toe walking, the lining up of toys, the temper tantrums that were coming thick and fast, the hyper numeracy and flappy hands, the toilet training that seemed to be going nowhere fast. By three and a half, I had got a preliminary diagnosis from the child and adult mental health service in Hackney, where I’d gone because I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown myself one way or another.

The experts took note of his train obsession, did a few tests and sent me on my way to face the early years at school. But having articulated my concerns, the staff agreed it was a cause for concern and kept an eye on things. By six, we had a diagnosis.

Much more of a sign to hold up than a label (thanks for specialmagiclady on mumsnet for that nice descriptor). It has enabled us to protect Jonah in the face of a less understanding world.

Kicked a teacher? Let’s see how we can make the playground environment easier, rather than an automatic suspension, as has recently been brought in at Jonah’s school, under new and slightly terrifying management. Want your child to stay with peers who know them rather than face a massive academy where he will flounder, even though it’s out of catchment? Why, here’s a letter than can help you work the system. The system is there to be worked though, even though accessing it can be hard, I think it’s worth it.

If you have questions and concerns about your child, speak to your GP, school’s SENCO or access CAMHS directly. It can be a slow process, and not all the services offered may feel right for you, but at least having a diagnosis can remove any doubt and frustration for you, and ease a more difficult journey for them.

@mummytries sent me a link to her own blog on her experiments with the GAPS diet, because of food allergies and gastro symptoms associated with ASD. Having just been diagnosed with Crohns this is something I will be looking into in more detail (but as ever, anything diet based is tough unless you have an in- house chef prepared to manage it, so Tom, you’ve got your work cut out!)