From the Outside Looking In

That is all Dave deserved. He didn’t try to call or contact us even once during the nine years I have been living here alone with my two  daughters, (I didn’t even let him know when Rylee was born). I am completely fine with that. Once, Rylee asked why she didn’t have a daddy like all her friends did. I laughed and said like it was no big deal, “Because we’re the three musketeers. Four musketeers just doesn’t sound right.” I never told her the real reason because it is better that she doesn’t know how her own father deserted Halyn for the reason he did. Ever since that day, we called our little family the three musketeers.

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       It is June 3, 2003. We are at the pediatrician’s office. Dave and I have started noticing some peculiarities in Halyn’s behavior. She still hasn’t gotten past babbling at the age of 2 and a half and she almost never makes eye contact with us. Unlike most toddlers, she hates it when we go to hug or cuddle her. I am worried sick. Dave just brushes it off, saying she’s just a late bloomer, but that doesn’t comfort me. My instinct somehow tells me that is not it; something else is definitely wrong. I insisted that we take Halyn to a specialist just in case. I can actually get some sleep for once and not stay up worrying all night.

       So here we are. Halyn is in my lap, her eyes fixated on the singing teddy bear in her hand. The doctor, Dr. Pamela, is drilling my husband and me with questions about her behavior and why we were concerned, yadda, yadda, yadda. The look on the doctor’s face is scaring me; she looks troubled and…unsure. From past appointments with her, I know that she is almost never unsure and that she is the most confident doctor I’ve ever met. If Dr. Pamela is scared, then something is definitely wrong. She looks up at me and says, “I’m not 100 percent sure what is wrong here; I may have to run a few tests. It’ll be another hour. I need to do a genetic test just to be completely certain. I just need to take some DNA to sample.” With that, she took a strand of hair from Halyn’s head, ripped the end of it off, carefully, to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and put it in a small vial. Dr. Pamela walked out of the room.

       Meanwhile, I tried to keep Halyn entertained alone, since Dave had to go to work. It was easier said than done. I tried to take the toy and distract her with it, waving it around like it was an airplane, but all Halyn did was give me look that said, Wow mom, do you have any clue how weird you look right now? Seriously, how old do you think I am, 2? Umm... you are two Halyn, just to remind you. My daughter never failed to amuse me. Halyn and I reached an agreement: I leave her alone with her toy, and she leaves me to read a health magazine, which totally made me feel bad about my not so skinny stomach. My mind wandered into the world of healthy living and making a list in my mind of all the things I shouldn’t be eating. For a moment, I almost forgot about the fact that we were in the doctor’s in the midst of Halyn’s content babbling. Almost. I looked up at the clock next to a poster about meningitis. 11:49. The doctor would be here any minute with the results. Knock knock! Startled, I looked up at the door to see Dr. Pamela with a stack of papers in her hand. Halyn hadn’t even looked up from her apparently very entertaining toy; she was completely absorbed in her own world. Dr. Pamela sat down in her spinning chair across from me before speaking the words that I would remember for as long as I live.

“I’m extremely sorry, Mrs. Belov. The test has confirmed my suspicions. Your daughter has been diagnosed with severe autism. She will most likely never be able to talk.”

       I hope no mother ever has to experience what I went through that whole week. Being told that your daughter will never talk, never have a conversation with anyone, not be able to give advice to her younger sister on the way, is just unimaginably painful. That day, questions flooded through my mind. Will she ever have friends? Which school will she go to? How will she communicate with us? But most of all, I wanted to know, why her? What did I do wrong to deserve this and what did Halyn do wrong? What made everything worse was my husband’s reaction. If only he had supported me, maybe I would’ve pulled through quicker. After I left the house and settled down in the apartment with Halyn, I was a mess. Who wouldn’t be after finding out your daughter was autistic and that your husband wasn’t the least bit supportive? The only reason I only reason I got up from bed was to feed or change her. After a week of this, I got up from the couch after another major sob session and stared into the mirror. I was appalled at what I saw looking back at me. The woman had dark circles under her dull, sea blue eyes, her hair was completely disheveled and she had obviously lost at least 10 pounds. It was then that I realized I had not eaten anything in a week. Maybe the wolf in me was the only reason I was still conscious...