Today I took Mira to her first Mommy & Me class. One of Aaron’s relatives runs the class, and even though Mira was a little young for this group, we were certain she could keep up with the other kids. Mira was a little confused by what was going on, but she enjoyed herself and I think each week she’ll get more comfortable and play along.

Mira is now 15 months old (I know – where has the time gone?) and I can’t help but compare her to Cordy at that age. Mira has been walking since before her first birthday, and is currently working on building up speed to run. She still won’t say a word, or at least a word we can comprehend, but she has a sharp mind that follows everything we say. She’ll nod her head yes or no to any of our questions, and finds other ways to make her thoughts known. She’s smart, stubborn, very independent, and loves to see new people.

The only thing she has in common with Cordy at that age is the last sentence. Cordy didn’t take her first independent steps until she was 15 months, and she was talking up a storm by this point, with a vocabulary of several words and the ability to count to 5. But she was social. She loved to be out in public, just like Mira.

And then between 15-18 months, something changed in Cordy. Her social nature turned inward, with only those who saw her regularly getting any kind of notice. She wasn’t scared of anyone, but she didn’t care to interact with anyone, either. Eye contact was minimal. Where she used to notice other kids, she now looked right through them most of the time. Tantrums escalated over the slightest thing, which we dismissed as nothing more than normal toddler tantrums. While she could walk, her fine motor coordination was poor. She didn’t get into things like most kids – she was content to sit and examine the toys in front of her.

Play became more linear, either focused on counting items, lining them up, or stacking them. There was little imaginative play. Her vocabulary increased, but I noticed the sentences that formed were just repeats of things she had heard on TV or from me. More often than not, when she talked without repeating something, it was gibberish. She didn’t like to be touched on her head or feet, and couldn’t stand the feel of anything gooey, like liquid soap or applesauce. Other kids played with their food – she wouldn’t touch anything of the semi-solid variety. She started to develop repetitive motions, like pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

It was the beginning of Cordy’s slide away from many of her developmental milestones and towards the autism spectrum. Looking back over many of my blog posts from that time period, I can see the beginnings of problems, but the clues were so small back then it’s easy to see how I missed them. And much of that period I didn’t share on my blog, too, because I didn’t want people to think she was a demon child. (I’ve since realized that it’s common to think of an 18 month old as a demon child. Who knew?)

So having gone through all of that, it’s no surprise that I look at Mira – my social, curious baby – and realize she’s now the same age Cordy was when it all started to change. And realizing that paralyzes me with fear. Will this outgoing personality fall away from me to be replaced with a far-off stare and lack of interest in those around her?

It’s not pleasant to think about, but I have to prepare myself for the possibility. There is a 1 in 5 chance of a sibling being on the spectrum if one child already has ASD. And there is nothing I can do to stop it if it happens. There were things I changed this time, like organic baby foods and a delayed vaccination schedule, but there’s no promise they’ll help.

This has been bothering me for several months now, actually. I’m not letting myself get worked into a panic about it, because that’s silly when there has been nothing yet to suggest signs of autism in Mira. But that nagging worry has persisted in the back of my mind. Is her lack of words a sign? Should I be concerned that her head size is off the charts, too? These next three months I’m on high alert for any changes to her behavior that could indicate a problem.

I’ll be honest: I don’t want another child on the spectrum. I’d rather spare Mira from the additional hurdles she’d face with autism. But I wouldn’t love her any less. If she did end up on the spectrum, I’d do the same thing I did with Cordy, and start the fight to get her all of the services she needs to be successful. Even with the extra work, we’re lucky that Cordy is high-functioning, and over the past year Cordy has made amazing progress (more on that to come) an accomplishment I credit to all of the hard work put in by her teachers, her therapists, and us.

So for now I watch and wait, hoping my second feisty, stubborn and oh-so-smart girl remains the social butterfly of the toddler scene.