autism doesn’t look the same in every child.

I was wearing my autism awareness pin on my jacket the other day while I was in Andersonville, which is a particularly gay neighborhood.  In case you haven’t seen the autism ribbon, it looks like this:

So after I order my new favorite beverage — a cafe au lait — the guy behind the counter goes, “What does that pin stand for… everything?” It does kind of look like the gay pride colors, doesn’t it? They should make an everything pin — gay, straight, trans, you name it — all puzzle pieces that fit together to make society.

Aside and related, I like this bumper sticker:

Speaking of autism, I took E-Niner to a McDonald’s playland for a playdate with another friend over the weekend. The mom and I were talking about IEPs — she’s in the midst of doing hers for her son — and our conversation moved to autism. I was talking about E-Niner like he has PDD-NOS, because he does (learning to accept, learning to accept, learning to accept). “Wait a second,” she said. “Doesn’t E-Niner’s IEP classify him as Emotionally Disturbed? He’s not on the spectrum is he?”

And then I looked at him: interacting with the other kids, making eye contact with me like nobody’s business (“Mommy!!!! Look at meeeee!!! I’m back from the tunnel!!! You found me!!!!!”), smiling away and having the time of his life. I looked at her son, who is also on the spectrum. He wasn’t making eye contact, didn’t acknowledge me or E-Niner, doesn’t have too many words, walks on tip toes a lot of the time, and darted out of the play area every five minutes. I kind of felt like a fraud.

Have I mentioned I hate this PDD-NOS diagnosis? In comparison to her son, E-Niner’s “autistic symptoms” are pretty light. So light that next to a boy who has mild symptoms, E-Niner looks “normal.”

She didn’t mean anything by the comment — this mother and I are very good friends and have shared a lot about what it’s like raising kids like ours — but my own emotions crept up. I felt defensive:

“Did you hear how he said that I found him when he was actually the one looking for me? That’s one of his delays — he doesn’t always get who is who in a situation. And see how he’s being super-repetitive right now? Climbing up the ladder, running across the tube, going down the slide, doing the Mommy-you-found-me bit — it’s a very long, repetitive loop, but it is repetitive. He’s been doing the same thing for the past half hour.” Then I went into some long winded explanation about how he knows feelings, but doesn’t know what to do with them.

I wasn’t sure she bought what I said. Especially when you look at the two kids next to each other. Truthfully, after listening to myself, I had a hard time believing me. It was as though I was regurgitating what I’ve been told; the words weren’t coming from my gut. Oh, well. It is what it is.

That’s the point of the ribbon, I suppose, that autism in one child may look very different than autism in another child. Everything — mild, severe, high-functioning and low — gets a nod in that one, colorful symbol.