My arms shook as I buckled myself back into the driver’s side of the car. Jay sat cattycorner behind me, buckled into his seat. He was slumped down and had his eyes closed.

Craig babbled at him in greeting.

Jimmy looked at me incredulous. “How did you do it?”

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Though it had felt like an hour, Jay and my exchange was really only about two minutes. To Jimmy it had looked like I walked right over, said something and Jay immediately jumped up and did what he was asked.

I felt horrible and relieved. Jay was here, in the car and safe. That was good. However, I felt terrible about how I strong-armed him into it. Essentially I made him afraid someone was going to snatch him from us. That’s what it really boiled down to.

While it worked in this situation I was afraid of how it was going to come back and bite me in the rear. Jay could latch on to things for years. He could be afraid internally and never talk about it and we’d only see seemingly strange outbursts, clinginess or depression.

Using his fear of change against him was the only tool I had at the moment. I knew I was woefully undereducated about how to defuse, redirect or better handle his behaviors.

Just two weeks before I was riding high on relief. We had just gotten a bona fide, official and accurate diagnosis of Asperger’s (in my blog used interchangeably with high-functioning autism), Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), phobias and clinical depression.

It had taken us 11 years to get a diagnosis. Now, because we had one, we could finally get Jay the help he needed in school and at home.

However, the day’s situation slammed home that we were standing only one step ahead of where we were before diagnosis.

Diagnosis was not the light at the end of the tunnel. It did not make Jimmy and me better at parenting a child with autism or have more patience with him. It did not explain to me what to do in a shutdown situation. All we had was a name.

And now the relief and novelty of that had worn off.

The one thing it was good for in this situation – earlier on the walk over to the car and before the park incident – I was able to explain to Kathy why Jay was behaving the way he was. I had a name for it.

At least now I could dispel the illusion that Jay was acting out because he was being a bad kid.

Amazingly Kathy was familiar with it and had said, “Wow, this makes a lot more sense now.”

That day, after we arrived at the house, Jay calmed down enough to come inside and watch TV. He was even invited to stay later, after we left for home, to finish watching a movie and Kathy would drop him off at home on her way back to college that night.

It was really comforting to know that our baby-in-laws* accepted us hidden disabilities and all.

Check the 'Raising Jay' category for more in this series.

*Dan and Kathy are my son Craig's grandfather and aunt on his birth dad's side. Their names have been changed to protect their privacy.

*Baby-in-laws is how we refer to being family to one another through open adoption. One day I told Dan that he feels like my in-law but wasn't sure how that worked since he wasn't Jimmy's dad. He said we're baby-in-laws! The name has stuck.

You can email me at specialkidsblogger@adoptionmail.com