"Okay Angela, one more push and your baby will be here," the nurse said softly. I thought to myself, this is the last time I will be pregnant. I have two beautiful children and everything in life so far has been amazing, my children love each other and have great friends. Reflecting on the final moments of my pregnancy, lying on a hospital bed in the Women's and Children's Hospital, I wanted to imprint them in my mind forever, so I would never forget what it felt like to carry a baby. Taking a deep breath, I pushed with all my might, I remained weak and my husband helped me hold my legs down and supported me with words of encouragement and love. Tears streamed down my face and a beautiful baby was placed in my arms. I was looking at my third and other perfect son, “His name is Noah,” I told my husband. Holding this miracle in my arms, I could sense something wasn't right. Almost as if my third child was different from my other two children. I didn't dwell on this feeling for long, because I was in that moment and in love with this precious bundle. When Noah turned three, I saw some changes in him, but I would just pass it off as "gee, he's just a kid." Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essayNoah had no worries and was not afraid of anything or anyone. He climbed fences and ran away every chance he got. When his sister Lucy came into the room, he would tackle her and wrap her up tight like a teddy bear. Jake, his brother, was watching TV and they fell to the floor together. Despite this, he spoke barley. Most of the time my family and friends would say: Ang, something is wrong with Noah. No, he's just a kid, I would explain. Being in child care has brought several issues to the surface. None of the children wanted to play with Noah. He was happy to play alone. Once again I assured myself that that is a typical guy for you. Noah didn't want to do what he wanted and constantly became frantic and threw crayons and paper. I was told that Noah had trouble holding a colored pencil. He just doesn't like doing homework, I told myself. He's fine, a lot of kids hate school. Kindergarten arrived and more difficulties arose. The children thought Noah was strange and didn't want to hang out with him. Sometimes, when the classroom got loud, he would fidget in his seat and cover his ears. Of course I would be called out for Noah's behavior throughout the year, and the school advised me to take Noah to the mental hospital, to have him evaluated for mental illness. I was stunned. What will I do? There is no way they can think that I would consider leaving my precious boy in a mental hospital when there is nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he is a growing little boy. He's so sweet to me that they just don't know how to handle him. One night I decided I would do a little research on the computer. I typed some things Noah was experiencing; delayed speech, many things came up and autism was one of them. The clapping brought out the autism again. And finally, socially unacceptable, once again the word autism filled my screen. I simply chose to visit various autism sites and see how autism was portrayed or characterized. The list of autism characteristics was almost the same as my Noah. Since he doesn't have most of the ruined files, I'm guessing he doesn't. Anyway, just to get everyone off my back, I'm gonna take him to a doctor just to prove everyone wrong and"..