Day 26. Z is for Zenith.
26 days ago I started with something and today I end with something else. April is Autism Awareness month…something that is like some weird little carrot in our world where every day is Autism Awareness Month. I thought “we don’t need any more awareness….unless you have not interacted with the world at all in the last 10 years…everyone has heard of Autism…everyone knows someone with Autism…enough already with the awareness….”. We need to DO something to help-there are autism families far, far more desperate than mine and maybe I can help my small corner of FB understand that. But as someone pointed out to me the other day….the rest of the world perhaps has the wrong kind of awareness. This A-Z blog has morphed…transformed in social media….transformed my relationships and transformed me in ways I could have not imagined. In my house we are Sunday school teachers, basketball players, pianists and yogis…we are runners and daddies….5th graders and video gamers….we are baseball players and music enthusiasts we are writers and congregants and helpers…singers and children and future dentists. We are autism. We are you. It is the space between where we live–like that strange moment when you are still dreaming as you wake and have one foot in each of those worlds yet are not sure what is real and what is not. We teeter on the edge of worlds where we don’t quite fit because some things are left unsaid by all parties. It is the space between. I did not intend on sharing the private thoughts, the raw realities or even the extent to which autism exists in my family. But I am so glad I did.
The sticky wicket of Autism. There are some moments I feel particularly lucky for autism. Those moments I watch slip away from my friends who’s babes with bountiful curls framing cherub faces ask for the straightening iron ……who have their gossamer wings clipped to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground….who no longer rub the wonder of dreams deeper into their eyes when they are sleepy….I would imagine it’s the bittersweet joy of having children…watching the transformation from innocent Angels to inhabitors of earth. I get to cavort with an angel for longer. I still get to hear a gasp followed by “look mommy…moon!”. I still get warm snuggly visits at 3AM. Bubbles are still magical. Raffi is still the only fully grown man who can sing wheels on the bus and get a rousing sing a long at our breakfast table. A2 can still do interpretive dance in the aisle at the synagogue during prayer while onlookers smile and nod as if it is part of the service. But it’s not for much longer….as those other children blossom from midlings to Ivy League applicants….A2 will likely still ask for The Muppets or try to squeeze himself onto a tricycle or squeal “go faster daddy!” as he coasts down a hill on a tandem bike….the promise of youth in the body of an adult where looks from strangers will fade from smiles when asked “what’s your name”. It’s not natural to pray you outlive your child….but we both agree as long as there are songs to be sung, dances to be danced and bubbles to blown we will move with him and try to always see the wonder of his world.
Sensory differences are a common symptom of autism. Often kids on the spectrum can become overwhelmed by these differences. A1 tells me that a public toilet flushing sounds like a bomb going off and for several years he avoided public restrooms. A2 flaps his arms and locks out his knees whenever he is filled with anxiety….kind of his virtual rocking chair….or else he is just hoping to fly away from the dentist/barking dog/hand dryer. As autism-folk we try to build awareness by creating overwhelming scenarios to get NTs (neurotypicals…yes, we have a name for you) to sympathize the plight of the kid flicking his fingers in front of his face as a way to stop having his eyes taking a million pictures at once or the kid who is pacing because he can’t tell where his body is in space. But sometimes, I am fairly certain that some of those sensory integration differences are not experienced in a negative way and sometimes there are common things that just look, sound or feel like something not of this world…..if I could only take an x-ray of A2s little mind and see what he could for 10 seconds….. (…and feel free to smile at this picture….)
W is for What It’s Like
“There is grandeur in this view of life…..from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been and are being evolved”—On the Origin of Species, Charles Darwin.
A few years ago I attended the funeral of a friend who suffered and died much too young. He was a scientist-a biologist, an activist, a researcher who was respected in his field and likely the smartest person I knew. He was also pedantic and opinionated with a biting but funny sense of humor. This combination engaged even the most simple of us but most of his friends were equally as interesting and I got to numbly stand in a room in Vermont in the dead of winter surrounded by them. “What’s it like?” a friend of his asked me…”having a child with Autism?” For a moment I just thought I was not in the mindset to answer that question but quickly realized I could NOT answer because in all the years I’d not only never been asked that but also never considered it either. It was the kindest thing anything had ever asked me about A2 and perhaps it was the somber tone of the day that rendered me without speech (which if you know me well does not happen often) or maybe I had always been so caught up in the action oriented nature of having a young child with autism that to contemplate that would stop me in my tracks and make me crumble….or perhaps in the moment I felt guilty for even thinking I would crumble and considered myself so lucky to still have those I loved around me regardless of circumstance while my best friend was grieving the loss of his partner……so I excused myself instead. What I have decided over the years is that it is a bit like A2 contemplating this fountain. It is weird and fascinating and wonderful and I have no idea how it really works or how it got there. I notice every single droplet from the ones that predictably slide down the posts to the ones that spit out to collectively leave me standing in a cold puddle over time that leave my toes numb without notice until its too late. There is no warning when the water will turn to an exciting spout of beauty creating a soft rain and visible rainbow or when it will create bursts of rainy arches that I cannot immediately escape leaving me far more drenched and colder than I want to be and on opposite sides of the fountain from whomever was standing near me. So Trevor…..that is what it is like……Thank you for asking
Because we are so immersed in this world of autism I have erroneously concluded that everyone who lives outside of this Village is already aware of autism. However, there is a secret sorority that exists…one equipped with a secret handshake and password. I am in that sorority yet have no recollection of agreeing to join. Autism is funny like that. The Village of Autism parents is a unique one. We are a motley crew of individuals whose path may have never crossed otherwise. We meet each other in waiting rooms and lobbies of doctors offices instead of in the PTO. We have closed blogs and Facebook pages instead of casual phone calls. We learn more about the newest treatments and resources from each other than we do from professionals. We talk about how well our child is pooping quicker than we will discuss how well they are doing in school. Though we are typically the least able to, we are often the first responders to others in the Village because we are more likely to reach out to one another than we would outside of the Village where no one speaks our language. And we find each other….everywhere and all the time. Today while sitting on the floor in the middle of the children’s shoe department feverishly tearing inserts out of shoes and hopelessly attemping to shove A2’s newest orthotics into them with no success I broke down and cried. Just sat there in the middle of the floor, surrounded by ridiculous shoes with flashing lights on the soles and sobbed like a toddler might who couldn’t find the shoes she liked. At that same time, I peered up to see a woman pushing a cart with one hand while calmly using her other to push her much-too-large child who was humming loudly down back into his seat. We made eye contact for a single moment and silently nodded–her nod seemingly said “Yes….I know those orthotics were made wrong twice before in 7 months and represents 6 visits to the clinic over that same time. Yes…..I realize this is the 3rd store you have been in today that absolutely does not carry shoes your 9 year old can wear with the braces he must wear on his feet. Yes….I realize that your tears are really about your kid and the pain and blisters he will probably have again that he can’t communicate or the weird, white 1960s Frankenbaby shoes the orthotics company will recommend that look nothing like what his school friends will be wearing. Yes….I see you….and I know you see me….” V is for my Village. The quiet, connected Village where my family lives.
U is for Ubiquinol
(originally posted 4/2015)
If you have heard this word before it is likely that you are either are a biologist or have a child with a mitochondrial disorder. In our case, to be sure….I am not a biologist. There is mounting evidence that autism and mitochondrial disorders at least co-exist in many cases. Mitochondria are organelles in almost every cell in the body and are considered the powerhouse of the cell. The mitochondria break down chemical compounds into energy and put it back into the cell for use. When there is a breakdown in the mitochondria factory, it cannot produce enough energy for the cell which can result in cell damage or death. This damage tends to affect larger organ systems such as the brain, heart, endocrine system, gastrointestinal system, kidneys and respiratory system. (As I mentioned….I am not a biologist..that’s about the best I can explain). The first time after 9th grade biology I heard about ATP or mitochondria was sitting in a neurologists office with A2 when she cocked her head and said “I need to send him to the Cleveland Clinic….I think he has mitochondrial disease…I am so sorry….”. I was confused–“Ok”, I said and left the office feeling optimistic that maybe we figured out why my baby completely stopped physically growing or gaining weight and developing. If we know what it is….we can treat it, why was she apologizing? But as it turns out, there is no cure and no real treatment for mitochondrial disorders. These disorders also tend to be progressive in nature so we must try to protect the mitochondria to the best of our ability using supplementation (thus the Ubiquinol CoQ-10) and body system balance. Under a microscope, A2’s mitochondria are oddly shaped..and there are a whole lot of them…and this hastened the question did some disease process or environmental assault cause this problem….or did he inherit it from me (mito are maternally inherited)? If something happened, what was it? Did I eat too many pesticides on my produce while nursing? Was his immune system down when he got a vaccination? Was the rated “F” water in Las Vegas where he was born full of toxins that damaged my baby? I am rational enough to know that there was nothing I could have done about my own mitochondria nor could I guess exactly what environmental assault would have caused such a huge problem…but it is here. And I now know why the neurologist apologized to me on that warm, blue skied summer day back in 2006…..
T is for Teachers and Therapists
112. A2 has had a total of 112 different teachers and therapists in his short 11 years. Some were hand- picked….some chosen by fate and luck of the draw. Some were published…lauded recognizable names….some were quiet presences of whom I cannot remember their names. Some have been with us for the majority of his life. Some have only jumped in for a blip of time in his almost 105,000 hours on this planet. Some were stellar….life alterers….some just showed up because they had to. Some interpreted my coolness or seeming indifference to them as being non-caring. Some recognized that I always had my child’s best interest in mind all the time and understood it was important for me not to be too attached for fear of losing perspective and not holding them accountable should his learning derail. All have had a permanent impact on my entire family’s lives and for all of them, I am grateful. When reading this post today–please help me help a few whose lives are difficult right now–Debbie Jo Pierce (pictured above) was one of the first paraprofessionals to work with A2. She has given most of her life to helping others and is ill with cancer leaving her unable to work and without income. Please consider today to donate to a Gofundme account started for her to help ease her burdens. Also, if you are of the praying sort, please like the FB page for Pray for Rachel. Lauren Sullivan, a favorite home team therapist of A2 15 year old sister Rachel is in Nationwide Children’s Hospital being treated for cancer. Rachel is her heart and soul –a child of strength and character. I am only one person–Christmas gifts and thank yous always seem so trite in the face of what we ask of the professionals who help us. Can you help make an impact for 2 of them today?
**This post has been updated since the original post in April 2015, Debbie Jo passed away..taken too early in this world, yet someone must have felt her job here was done….and what a job she did in a quiet world where her time impacted so many. Rachel Sullivan has made a full recovery and is enjoying school, family, sports and her community.
S is for Skeletons
(edited and reposted from 4/2015)
In a way we are luckier than many in that when you meet A2, it is clear he is generally sweet and happy. It is also clear that he is a 10 year old with limited language and an intense fascination with things like dangling light bulbs and garage doors. This combination is like a free pass….since it would be weirder to not acknowledge it I get to talk about it. But just a little bit. It’s not exactly like airing dirty laundry….it’s more like airing dry cleaning…..the-sort-of-dirty-nicest-silk-dress-in-my-closet kind of laundry. Let’s face it, there are socks and skivvies in all of our hampers that we wouldn’t dare let hang out on the line in the backyard. For us, in the best of our worst case scenario of autism, A2 can make autism seem almost ethereal. And he IS inspirational–despite his challenges he plows through life with a joy and wonder as if even the slightest thing is something he has seen for the first time. When we hire aides to work in our home, I warn them in advance that their workspace is located in the darker cubicle of my life. While it can be a place full of love and ideas and fun…it is also the space where anxiety, anger and compulsiveness roll up like dust bunnies in the corner. They are invited into that laundry room to watch me fold those things we can’t hang outside to dry. They get to see the worst of the best case scenario and of course are free to form opinions or quietly judge. These young women know more than my “inner circle” of friends….its not a comfortable place to be. But I let it happen for the benefit of my child for whom alone I could not be successful. Why would I focus on this today when I have shared more about what it’s like on FB than I ever intended? Because we are “out” and wholly connected with the special needs community. There are revolutionaries who have adult children and walked with a yoke of autism around their shoulders before anyone knew what autism was and never got the help they needed, so they created it for us….there are families you may know who can’t take their children in public for fear they won’t be safe to themselves or others…and there are those who walk among us invisible–who closely protect their tangled criss cross of laundry lines for fear of being judged, or worse yet, for their child being judged over something beyond their control. These are the people who might need to be seen and understood the most because they are not likely connected to a community who will understand. This is also autism. Awareness is not just about what we do see…it’s also about what we don’t. If you are a revolutionary or an invisible family….reach out to me…tell me you are here….and if you are feeling brave, let me tag you on this post.
“Are you sure he has Autism? He’s so friendly…”. While there are more nuanced aspects now to the criteria, failure to develop peer relationships appropriate to developmental level is one of the defining and most obvious diagnostic identification for children with autism. Interest in people in general, desire for friendships and loving behavior can muddy the diagnostic waters and confuse people about what autism is and what autism isn’t. Disconnectedness, aloofness and lack of desire to be touched does not always translate as a lack of desire for relationships. The desire is there, the understanding for how that happens is not. It can just be easier to be by yourself. A1 can tell you that. Indiscriminate friendliness, hugs and kisses to those he loves and the compulsive desire to be around a lot of people doesn’t always coexist with developmentally appropriate social skills. A2 probably would tell you that part…if he could. He is just as likely to enthusiastically greet a stranger in a public bathroom as he would a child at school he knows well. A2’s splintered play skills had to be taught like you would teach a typically developing child how to read. And he has missed many steps in this such as building with blocks and representational play. This spectrum of deficit in social interactions makes it much like I am raising 2 only children. A2 wants nothing more than to play with A1, but has no idea how to engage in some of the more rigid independent activities he is playing….and A1 wants nothing more than to play by himself because he has no idea how to model the back and forth necessary for that interaction to work if it is not an activity of high interest. I believe they love each other…but much of the time it is like they are drifting in separate rafts in a tumultuous sea of desire for one another’s companionship without oars the to paddle over to each other. Sometimes their boats coincidentally bump. It is those moments as a mom I see a glimmer of typical sibling antagonism, tattling and sometimes even a game of Connect 4 and hope that they both hold on to each other’s rafts and paddle to shore together one day.
“Why does he do that?” A common question for parents of children with autism. There is no easy answer for that in a global sense given each child with autism is as unique as any child without autism. Many times it’s because the wires are crossed neurologically causing some kids like A2 to perceive things in the world differently. Licking a basketball before he shoots it, flapping his arms whenever he is excited or anxious or hooting loudly when he sees something interesting….try thinking instead taste sometimes is like balance, repetitive movements are calming to the body and noise is quicker that coming up with words. Sometimes the quirk comes because the part of the brain responsible for things like memory, the time it takes to process information and the ability to take another persons’ perspective has a blip and experiences the world in the same way much like A1. Someone just said to me “I always thought he just marches to the beat of his own drummer”. And he does. They both do. My kids are as they are and as they should be but at the same time they do need to be functioning and hopefully contributing members of society. Sometimes though, to watch the struggle of loneliness because others don’t understand is painful and hope that I am projecting my own anxiety and that they are more resilient than I give credit for. This unique and quirky nature of autism makes my guys who they are…..and they are perfect to me. Perfect…and different, not less….