In my hand

In my hand I hold E's official diagnosis. E was only diagnosed last week and today I hold the report.

In my hand I read of his social deficits, his severe language and communication delay, his lack of emotional sharing, his lack of appropriate play, his impairment in the use of multiple non verbal behaviours, his preoccupation with restricted patterns of interest, his repetitive motor mannerisms.

In my hand I hold the key to getting help and support and accessing services for my son and for myself.

In my hand I see words. Clinical words. Words which put him in categories.

In my hand I do not see the glint in his eye that is occasionally given.
In my hand I do not see descriptions of the belly laugh which although only sometimes heard makes people stop and listen and smile.
In my hand I do not see the depth of cuddles that this boy loves.
In my hand I do not read about his love of animals and his fascination for all things small.
In my hand it does not reveal the level of joy felt when one has the privilege of glimpsing the real E, when this boy lets you in to his world.

In my hand is only a small part of the picture.

In my heart I hold him.