Guilt.
You know that feeling. Not the one when you have eaten more chocolate than Augustus Gloop.
The one you get when you become a mum.
Guilt over how you parent.
Guilt about missed opportunities.
Guilt when you have your first outing sans child.
As if being a mum is'nt hard enough, I have the guilt over J. As blogged before I have mentioned the various potential reasons for his autism. But as there are no real findings yet by the clever boffins as to how/why/when autism occurs it is all just speculation.
But with the genetic tests and the long wait I am fretting and losing sleep.
Why?
Because I am desperate to know whether what he has is genetic and therefore my fault.
He could go from being a statistic of 1 in 4 children with autism to 1 in only 400 children in the whole of the UK. It's a big leap and with it a whole mass of guilt.
I know it may well all come back clear. I am prepared for that.
But it's the niggley doubts and the words of the specialist that he displays all of the traits of SMS.
I am a worrier. It is one of my many faults. I worry until I make myself ill..
I know it will not change anything. I know it is not that long a wait when you look at it objectively. But the guilt is weighing down hard on me. And then I worry about how I will feel if it is positive. Running scenarios through my head at 2am as to my reaction to reading the letter with the results is not helping me, but there is no one to help me at that time of night (or morning whichever way you look at it). No one to listen to my endless chatter and endless worry.
I am sorry for such a negative post this time round, but this blog is my outlet and one place I can natter on without seeing that glazed look in a persons eyes as they switch off and start compiling their shopping list in their head as I witter on.
Positivity will resume shortly.
