A quiet Sunday, a tired body and a look back at the start of River’s journey.
Sundays Aren’t Always Rest Days
So, bed day didn’t quite happen straight away: children wake up, houses need cleaning, meals need to be made. Kike has injured his neck so he’s in a lot of pain and also has to rest. Some garden time, putty snowmen, Roblox and a Spiderman movie which quickly got turned off and replaced with Ninja Turtles: Episode 1 – isn’t the worst way to spend a Sunday.
Summer also seemed really tired and she’s back to a new camp tomorrow. It’s an art camp but I just got a message telling me to bring her asthma inhaler as they’re doing a bit of Street Dance! Again, I would love this stuff, her response:
“Not more dancing…”
Are we even related?
When People Ask: “When Did You Notice?”
So, as not a lot has happened today, I thought I’d go back to the beginning. A lot of people like to ask the same questions:
When did you notice something was different? What were the signs?
River was born by planned C-section. It was amazing. Unfortunately, I had quite a traumatic emergency C-section with Summer and long recovery problems, so this time we had made a plan. Well I say, we, my lovely doctors made the plan.
The Birth Plan Wobble
I was around 8 months pregnant and having one of my final checks when they were finalising my birth plan and I panicked. I apologised to the doctor (and the student who was observing) and calmly explained that I had made a mistake and I couldn’t possibly go through giving birth again. I apologised again for wasting everyone’s time and asked for the baby to be removed. There was an odd silence. I repeated my request and began to get more agitated.
Some more doctors were called. I was offered some counselling and told that a relaxed, planned C-Section was definitely the best option.
River’s Arrival: Eurovision and a Smile
On my date, I arrived alone with my bag at 7am and ‘checked-in’ to the hospital. There were 3 of us and we wouldn’t find out who was first till later. Kike was taking Summer to nursery and I assumed there wasn’t a rush. Turns out it was me who was first and Kike nearly didn’t make it!
I was rolled down to surgery at 9am and introduced to the team 1 by 1, the lights were low and they talked me through the procedure. They did a ‘rehearsal epidural’ (that’s what went very wrong last time). They asked for my playlist (we never got round to making one) but one of the nurses I had been chatting to exclaimed,
“She loves Eurovision!”
So a Eurovision mix began to play and 30 minutes later, I was handed baby River.
It was COVID times, so I had my own room. I stayed the night alone and came home the next day. In River’s first ever photo, he is smiling. I know people say it’s gas but I don’t believe it is.
River always is smiling. He’s the happiest boy I’ve ever met.
The Early Days: No Red Flags (Yet)
The first year went relatively easy, much easier than I had with Summer. We watched 18 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy and I enjoyed being a part of Summer’s first year of Reception.
Parenting second time round is a lot less stressful, you don’t worry about the little things as much. I had all the apps, books, milestones for Summer, but I was more relaxed when it came to River. He started walking at 9 months, which was horribly early. Kids are so much easier when they aren’t mobile. He liked his food, he slept well till he was 6 months and then regressed. Most nights he was up 2–3 times a night until past 2. Again, nothing that really concerned me. Some babies don’t sleep.
“He Just Sits and Smiles in His Pram”
It was around the time he was 1 when a comment from a friend made me think. I had set up a ‘Mums Club’ in our pub as I didn’t like the other baby groups. My club was really a chance to drink wine and chat about our lives.
First rule of Mums Club: We don’t talk about babies.
A new mum came one day and I was introducing everyone whilst holding someone else’s baby and she said,
“So do you just help the other mums, or do you have a baby?”
To which another mum replied,
“Oh yes, she has the beautiful River. He likes his pram. He just sits and smiles in there.”
It didn’t happen straight away but it made me start thinking. Was he like the other babies? When was the last time I heard him make a noise that wasn’t a cry?
The Milestones that Didn’t Come
I went to check the milestones:
9–12 months: making gestures, saying simple words like “Mama,” following simple instructions, playing simple games. River didn’t do those.
I know children develop at different times, but River wasn’t doing any of those. I went back through old videos of Summer, she was a late talker but she definitely was doing those things.
Over the next few months, I frantically read about “things he should be doing” and realised:
- He did not respond to his name
- He did not babble or make any attempt to communicate
- He did not play simple games and was mostly uninterested in toys
The Dismissals
He attended nursery full-time so I could go back to work and when I started asking questions about his speech and social development I was told:
“He’s fine.”
“He’s a boy, they are always a bit slower.”
“You worry too much.”
“Maybe you’re a bit too emotional about this.”
I talked to Kike, he didn’t know. He just saw his happy son. I felt like I was going mad and no one could see what I could see.
Enter: Miss Rachel
My mum suggested that we watch this lady on YouTube, she made videos helping children to talk.
That lady was the one and only Miss Rachel and she will forever be a cherished member of our family. Our house was filled with the repetitive:
“Say MAMA, say MAMA!”
He beamed when she came on the TV but still no words.
The Spinning, the Smiling, the Silence
When he walked it was always on his toes, it was quite sweet really and I didn’t think too much of it, but he never put his whole foot down.
We’d sit and talk to him but realised he didn’t actually respond to his name, nor really look at us when we were talking.
Oh, and he loved to spin. Spin round and round for ages, he made me dizzy but he was fine. Calmer, in fact.
The 18-Month Check (At 24 Months)
By the time we went for his 18-month check-up (which was delayed due to COVID so ended up being 24 months) I had prepared myself for the appointment. The two ladies read my questionnaire and attempted to communicate with River and carry out the assessment tasks.
I saw the looks pass between them as they scribbled down in their notebooks. After about 10 minutes, they stopped. One of the ladies took a breath and said,
“Do you have any concerns about River’s development?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I have many.”
Both ladies let out a relieved sigh as I listed all the things I thought he would be able to do by now. They nodded and kept writing. When the appointment was over, they explained that River was not where they would expect a 2-year-old to be.
Tears sprung, I clung to him tightly. They explained that River would be signed up for more assessments, hearing tests, eyesight checks and a doctor’s visit. That he might have some additional needs.
Big tears began to fall, desperate blinking trying to hide them.
“Are you ok?” one of the ladies asked.
“Yes,” I managed to say. “I’m not sad about River. I’m happy that someone is finally listening to me.”
And That’s Where It Began
And that’s where our journey began. We now have a folder full of observations from lots of different professionals all pointing in the same direction.
It didn’t take long for the word Autism to be used.
Once it was mentioned, I immediately began reading all I could. Watching any documentaries, shows, anything to learn as much as I could to help him.
A Name for What I Already Knew
Sometimes the biggest moments in your life don’t come with drama. They arrive quietly, in passing comments, in late-night Google searches, in the way your child looks straight through you when you call their name. I didn’t have one big realisation, I had hundreds of little ones, the kind that settle in your gut long before your mind catches up.
Looking back, it was never about wanting River to be different. It was about wanting to understand him, to meet him exactly where he was and to make sure no one takes that smile away from him. That meeting, with the health visitors, was the first time someone didn’t dismiss me. And that was the beginning, not of something scary but of a path toward seeing River more clearly and making sure the world starts to see him, too.
It’s not always easy, parenting rarely is but the more I learn, the more I realise this: it’s not River who needs to change. It’s the systems around him, the assumptions people make, the way we define what’s “typical.” He is joyful, emotional, complex and exactly who he’s meant to be.
50 days of River 
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