It's almost here. Esme's assessment. Only three weeks to go, after a delay of a little over a month. But I won't complain too much about the delay, as her assessment will now be covered, saving us a nice chunk of change. Which we most certainly can use.
At speech therapy today our speech therapist promised me that we won't walk out of the assessment without a diagnosis. She said that if they don't diagnose Esme with autism she will personally call them and ask them if they are crazy! Still, I am nervous. Worried that they will say its not Autism and we will still be looking for a diagnosis. Worried that they will say its not Autism and we will be denied funding for therapy, denied an Inclusion Facilitator at preschool, denied funding for respite and therapeutic leisure activities. Worried that they will say its not Autism and we will be nowhere closer to a diagnosis and nowhere closer to moving past this stage.
And I am worried they will say its Autism. Worried about how we will cope knowing for sure. I mean, we know for sure now. But that will be for-sure-for-sure.
Of course, Esme won't change. The girl we bring into the assessment room will be the same girl we leave with. Our funny, beautiful, smart, hardworking, loving, friendly, wonderful girl.
I just hope hearing the words "Your daughter has Autism" wont change us.