Page 18 of I’m Fine Save Me (The Spiral Duet #1)
Chapter twelve
Tegan
Two Weeks Later
T he car has been silent since we left the specialist’s office.
We spent a total of six hours there. One hour was spent in the waiting room, filling out paperwork and answering questionnaires.
The next four hours were spent with nutritionists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, pediatricians, a child psychologist, a nurse practitioner, and a really kind nurse named Adam.
They gathered all of their notes from watching Hannah do things like play with toys, point at flashcards, eat lunch and a few snacks, play with objects that weren’t toys like doctor’s gloves and tongue depressors, and even run back and forth in the hallway as fast as she could.
It was a lot of time spent watching her be a kid, and they asked her to do things they’d expect a kid her age to understand.
I thought she was acting and playing like a normal child her age.
I mean, she did get creative with the gloves and tried to blow them up like balloons.
With a sweet smile and batted eyelashes at her father, she had him blowing them up properly and tying them off.
When he was done, she had two spikey haired puppets.
She worked the play dough into shapes, then organized the shapes by color. I’ve never seen a child be so careful about not letting the colors touch or mix; but I can explain that by her being a neat freak like her mama.
The last hour was a revelation.
Dr. Hahn, sat down on his stool and smiled at all three of us. Hannah continued playing with her glove balloons, uncaring as ever. He very calmly said, “I’m going to tell you a few things about Hannah and you tell me if I’m right.”
He covered everything from her pickiness about food, her tantrums over her clothes, all the way to how she will bang her head against a solid concrete floor in frustration and show no sign of pain.
He covered the screaming for hours on end when something isn’t the way it’s supposed to be, and even how she gets frustrated when we don’t understand what she needs.
“Your daughter is on the Autism Spectrum, Mr. and Mrs. Michaels. The diagnosis right now is Pervasive Developmental Disorder, and I recommend speech and occupational therapy twice weekly.”
There was a lot more information given to me, but luckily it’s all in the stack of pamphlets in my lap. I’m just mindlessly watching the highway pass by while Cooper drives us back home from Atlanta.
It’s been half an hour and neither of us have said anything. Fortunately, Hannah passed out in her car seat before we even got to the interstate.
Cooper’s tense.
I can feel it radiating off of him like a summer heatwave.
Hannah is supposed to start Pre-K next week and I will have to learn all of this before then so I can prepare her teachers for what to expect.
I had never even heard of Autism until her caregivers at daycare had brought it up.
Now I feel like I’m about to spend every waking moment memorizing this section of the DSM-5.
At least that’s what I’ll do after I get Cooper to talk to me.
I don’t have to work too hard for it when I hear him sigh heavily. I glance over, and he’s looking in the rearview mirror to see her sleeping soundly. He keeps his voice low so he doesn’t wake her.
“She’s just so fucking perfect…” he starts and I can feel the weight of his words.
“There’s nothing wrong with her. She sees the world differently and interacts with it according to the way she sees it.
That’s not wrong.” My eyes well up a little at his assessment.
“She’s not fucking broken, Tegs. That girl is perfect. ”
I think I fall even more in love with my husband in this moment.
He’s not blaming me, even though he knows all the things his sister brought up to me when I asked for her help.
He knows everything I googled that same night.
He thought I was writing and losing myself in some fantasy world until he found me crying over my laptop. He had looked over my shoulder to see some random article about drinking diet soda while pregnant causing autism and closed the screen.
He didn’t give me my laptop back until the following day when I told him I had paperwork to file for Hannah’s appointment. Now, my amazing husband is still not blaming me, even though she’s been diagnosed.
“I love you,” I tell him and my tears finally fall.
He reaches over and grips my hand while keeping one hand on the steering wheel.
“We’re gonna figure out what is best for her and we’re going to make sure she gets every chance to show the world how amazing we already know she is, okay?
” The promise is even sweeter than the ones he made at the altar five years ago.
Lifting our joined hands, I kiss the back of his and smile against his knuckles. Tears are still spilling from my eyes as I look back at our peacefully sleeping little girl and then back to this amazing man of mine.
“Okay.” I sit back and let the drive settle me a little more.
After I calm down a bit, I call my mother and give her the news. She gives me the most profound knowledge that should’ve occurred to me without her motherly wisdom.
“She’s still the same baby you drove to Atlanta this morning. You just know a little bit more about how special she is now.”
Those words sit with me for the rest of the drive home.
Hannah doesn’t even stir when Cooper peels her out of the car seat and carries her inside. He lays her down in bed and sneaks back out of her room to come join me in the kitchen.
I’m taking out leftovers to warm up for dinner when I feel his arms wrap around me from behind. I lean back against him and sigh heavily.
“I guess the Honeymoon Phase is over, huh? Now we start the hard part called marriage?” I smirk and he laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the curve of my neck and shoulder.
Copper moves those kisses up to my ear before resting his forehead against my temple. “We’ve been out of the Honeymoon Phase, baby.” He laughs softly and kisses my cheek, still holding me like he cherishes me. “This is just life, but we’re still doing life together.”