Category Archives: Parenting

Entries about what it means to be the parents of an autistic child.

Day 6

Posted on October 21, 2011 by | 5 comments

Call me crazy… BUT I think we’re seeing some changes.  Okay, I know, I said this after each of the three stem cell treatments.  Though there really did seem to be a slight shift – a change in her speech, better eye contact, longer more complex sentences, a more grounded presence in the world and I don’t think we were wrong about any of that.  I’m pretty sure Emma really did make some progress.  However, here’s my latest theory  (Richard, please refrain from rolling your eyes) – what if the stem cell treatments were helped by the fact that she also wasn’t eating all the dairy she normally ate.  What if in addition to giving her a little boost, the fact that she ate very little and therefore almost no dairy and hardly any wheat contributed to the progress we saw?   What if these food intolerances really are making it difficult for her to concentrate, focus, stay on task, carry on a conversation, maintain eye contact?

Today is the 6th day on Emma’s modified gluten free/casein free diet.  I use the word modified because, according to Dr. D she can tolerate dairy products from sheep and goats.  However she is not allowed to eat anything containing soy, corn or potato.  Which pretty much eliminates all pre-made foods, no matter how organic and gluten free they are, they all, every single one of them, contain either soy, corn or potato and often all three.  In addition she cannot eat anything with chicken eggs as she cannot have the whites, yolks are okay, but not the whites.

I’ve been doing a great deal of baking.  Which is a bit ironic considering how little Emma is actually consuming, but I keep trying to find things she might like.  I also love a challenge.  My mother told me about one of those cooking shows she likes called Chopped or a name like that. I’ve never watched it, but she described how the chefs are given bizarre items such as (I can’t remember what the actual ingredients were on the episode she told me about, so I’m making this up) – sweetbreads, licorice and coca-cola – and told to create something edible.  The chef then whips up some amazing concoction using those ingredients as their base, which looks delicious and the judges proclaim it a work of art.

The list of Emma’s “CANNOT EAT” foods sits on our kitchen counter, where I refer to it, reminding myself that if someone can prepare a fabulous dish with lifesavers and sweetbreads (or whatever it was they were given) then surely I can create something Emma will eat with all the foods she CAN have.  Still it does seem daunting.  And I’ll bet Emma wouldn’t touch any of those dishes prepared by those fabulous chefs, no matter how talented they may be.  Emma is one discerning customer.  Or as my son Nic said in answer to my question as to why he didn’t like the girl who keeps texting him at all hours of the day and night, “I’ve got very high standards, Mom.”  He then went back to playing his video game, involving lots of blood, various weapons no one has ever heard of and screams of agony.

When I first told Richard about taking Emma to Dr. D, he asked, “So what’s the science behind this?”

And the truth is I cannot answer that.  Though the following non-biased paragraph from the website, about.com is a pretty good description of the theory behind foods, intolerances, GI issues and autism:

“Why Does GFCF Seem to Work?

GFCF diets are difficult and expensive to administer. They require a lot of dedication and knowlege, and most professionals suggest that the diet be implemented over at least three months. Given all of this, it’s possible that parents who desperately want to see improvement could report improvement that may or may not actually be present. In addition, many children do gain new skills over the course of three months, with or without special diets.But there’s more to the story than just wishful thinking. Allergies to gluten and cassein are not uncommon, and those allergies often manifest themselves in diarrhea, constipation, bloating and other symptoms. About 19 to 20 percent of autistic children seem to have significant gastrointestinal issues.

If these issues are caused by gluten and/or cassein, then they would certainly be significantly improved by the diet. By removing a source of constant discomfort and anxiety, parents may well be opening the door to improved behaviors, better focus, and even lowered anxiety.”

It may be that I am trying to find improvements that have nothing to do with the change in her diet.  It may be wishful thinking on my part.  It may be that what I’m seeing may have happened had we not started her on this radical new diet. But I began this blog as an honest documentation of Emma, the progress, the lack of progress and everything in between.  Since we began the diet I have seen the following:

Greater sustained eye contact.  Less spaciness and a more solid grounded presence.  An interest in her Dad and a desire to include him beyond what she normally displays.  This morning, when I told her we didn’t have time to finish her study room and that we’d finish it tonight, she said, “Study room later.  We get to show Daddy.”  Now this may seem insignificant to most, but I can tell you, to Richard this sort of acknowledgement is a long time coming.

Emma – last night – October 20th, 2011

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Day 4

Posted on October 19, 2011 by | Leave a comment

Today begins day 4.  It appears that Emma has a cold – red sore throat, cough, runny nose, slight fever in the morning.  I do not believe her cold has anything to do with going on this new diet.  We began various tinctures last night as well as omega supplements & cod liver oil.  Amazingly she took all of these things with little protest, even swallowed two capsules.  Her spirits are good and while she still isn’t eating much, she is active and cheerful.  As I write this she is singing and doing a dance in the living room.

Last night I took a break and met a friend for a few hours. Just as I was leaving Emma became extremely upset because her carousel book was missing and she couldn’t find it.  Richard pushed me out the door.  “I got this honey.  Go.”

Later Richard texted me this photo.

Evidently Emma came over to Richard and asked if she could play with her math blocks.  (The following conversation is one that Richard texted to me.) “Emma, do you want to play with your pattern blocks or look for your carousel book?”

“Play with pattern box!”

As she played, making patterns, adding and subtracting and making equations, Richard found her much coveted Carousel Book.  He proudly held it up to show her and she barely glanced at it, so absorbed in her math.

“Emma, it’s the carousel book!  I found it!”  Richard was so pleased with himself he could barely stand it, but Emma continued playing with the blocks.  Not one easily deterred, he said, “Emma!  Do you want to read the book or keep playing with the blocks?”

“Keep playing with the blocks.”

“Okay, Emma.  I’ll put it in your bedroom okay?”  He headed to her bedroom.

“Okay.”

Richard turned and said, “Aren’t you going to say thank you Daddy for finding your book?”

“Thank you Daddy.”  Upon which she returned to playing with the blocks for awhile and then very neatly packed them all up in their box again.

When I arrived home Richard told me that when it was time for her to go to sleep, he asked if Emma wanted him to read to her.  But she told him she wanted him to turn off the lights.  Richard asked her if she wanted him to leave or stay with her.  She asked him to stay with her.  Then she snuggled down under the covers and said, “Lie with me.”

This was the first time Emma has asked Richard to stay with her while she fell asleep.

And stay he did.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.emmashopebook.com

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A Comment

Posted on October 13, 2011 by | 2 comments

A follower of this blog wrote the following response to yesterday’s post.  I posted it here as it beautifully sums up exactly what my husband, Richard and I also feel and why we work as hard as we do with Emma.

“I think maybe this is what most parents or carers of children with autism aspire to.  Not to extinguish quirks and unique personality traits, rather to help our children function in this world, to cope, to survive, to find happiness. It is not as simple as just accepting someone as being unique when they can’t go out in public without dropping to the ground and self harming over some issue or they can’t even attend to their own most basic needs when they  become distressed, when there is an unavoidable change in routine, when they cannot even travel safely in a car or bus ( we’ve been there believe me), when they have no way to communicate their needs or to even tell a parent they are in pain or scared or hungry, when they want to reach out to a friend, but don’t know how and so are left friendless, when they struggle to eat because the food repulses them, struggle to even hold a fork or use a knife. That is not something I will accept for my children. I want more for them than that. As a mother I have had to watch my children cry in pain and be unable to hold them in my arms and give them this most basic of comfort, rather being forced to witness their anguish and left helpless. These are things that need to be changed and worked on. If that is a “cure” bring it on I say.”

I have never met the woman who wrote this comment, but we have been corresponding now for awhile.  She has two children on the spectrum, each utterly unique.  Her comments are always thoughtful and insightful.  Though we live on separate continents with several oceans between us, we have a great deal in common.  So, to you Liz – thank you for blazing a trail and sharing about it.  You have helped me more than you can know.

For more on autism and my daughter, Emma’s journey through it, go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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On the Spectrum

Posted on October 12, 2011 by | 2 comments

I was asked recently why I am trying so desperately to overcome autism.  It’s a valid question and it made me think about the challenge of writing about one’s child in a way that honestly captures that child with all their complexities.  A week or so ago I wrote in my post entitled A Cure – “Emma cannot function in our world, she is not mainstreamed, she cannot take a shower, wash her hair and dry herself off without support.  We are not discussing nuances here.  We are talking about a child who is more than “quirky”.  My husband, Richard and I love quirky.  Quirky is GREAT!  We’ll take quirky.  But that’s not what Emma is.”

To me, that summed up why we continue to search, why we continue to try various things, but it does not adequately describe Emma.  Emma cannot function in our world without hands on support.  We cannot have a conversation with her or ask her questions.  I am still trying to capture Emma on video and post some clips on here, but haven’t had the time to do that yet.  The question I began this post with, made me realize that for someone reading this blog they cannot know her through my writing.  Perhaps one gets a sense of her, but there’s too much left out, too much I don’t think to mention, the cadence and inflections of her speech, the words, which I can understand, but which may not be understood by someone else.  I try to give an accurate portrait of her, but in the end, it is just that, an interpretation and not representative of the whole.

When we first received Emma’s diagnosis I was determined to find a “cure”.  I felt sure that I would find one too.  (Hubris?   Arrogance?  Ignorance?  Stupidity? Denial?  All of the above?)

After those first few years I realized I might not find a cure for what ailed Emma.  And after another few years and three trips to Central America for stem cell treatments under our belt, a “cure” seemed more and more elusive.  I have come to accept that.  Perhaps more importantly, I am less focused on the miracle of a cure and more focused on pushing Emma to expand her world.  There’s a balance we have tried to achieve with Emma.  We try to follow her lead whenever possible, but we also encourage her to stretch and do things beyond her comfort zone.  Our most recent attempts to expand her diet is a case in point, her literacy and math program are another.

Which isn’t to say that I don’t continue to research and do everything in my power to find treatments to help her.  I am convinced Emma’s digestive issues are exacerbated by her environment – the foods she ingests, the air she breathes, the water she drinks.  This Friday I am taking Emma to a doctor who has worked with hundreds of children on the spectrum.  He and I spoke on the phone yesterday for over an hour, going over her history, her GI issues (inflammations and ulcerations), chronic constipation, recurring strep throat, porous teeth, cracked heels and limited diet.  While a few years ago, I would have eagerly anticipated this appointment with the same degree of excitement the devoted view a visit from the Pope, I no longer do.  I have come to see all of these people, no matter what letters may follow their name, with tempered interest.

Last week Emma’s school bus matron told us Emma refused to buckle her seat belt and when the bus matron tried to help her, Emma kicked her hard in the chest.  We immediately went over with Emma the behavior we expected from her.  We rehearsed buckling her seat belt and made sure she had her ipod and ear buds with her so she could amuse herself once she was seated.  We went over the importance of not hurting another person.  We tried to consider what sort of support she might need to help her control herself.  We are lucky in that Emma seems to have understood and has not struck nor tried to get up from her seat while on the bus since.

As we waited for her bus this morning, I coached Emma, “Emma, it’s nice to say good morning to people.  She’s a nice lady and saying – Good Morning – will make her smile.

When Emma boarded the bus this morning she said, “Good morning, nice lady.”

The bus matron beamed.

There are many people with an autism diagnosis who are on the “mild” end of the spectrum or fall in the “gifted” category of Aspergers or are considered “high functioning”.  These children are often mainstreamed or learning at grade level or above.  And while they have tremendous hurdles, often requiring support into their adult lives, they occupy a different level of hurdles from those who, like Emma are moderately autistic.

I had a friend whose child was unable to walk or even lift his head.  He, too, was diagnosed with autism, though severely so.  That child faced developmental and physical problems far beyond anything Emma has had to deal with.  For me to compare the two would have been ludicrous.  At this point my goal is to get Emma to a higher level on the spectrum.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Em

Posted on October 7, 2011 by | 4 comments

Emma holds an uncanny resemblance to a fictitious children’s book character.

Okay, so we haven’t gotten the whole handstand-on-the-handlebars thing down yet, but I’m sure that’ll be next.

Merlin watches and waits.

He just cannot help himself.

Food update:  Emma ate a blueberry last night.  This morning – one blueberry, (not her favorite) a slice of apple, a slice of pear and a piece of banana!

After eating all of that she said, “No more medicine.”

I’ve got my work cut out for me.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism and our attempts to help her, go to: www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Emma and Food

Posted on October 6, 2011 by | 4 comments

I’ve written about this before – Emma’s limited diet.  It’s self-imposed.   As her parent and someone who struggled with an eating disorder for 22 years, I have been reluctant to get too involved in her food other than to make a few half-hearted attempts to offer her other foods I thought she might like.  By the way, Nic, her older brother eats a wide range of foods, even eating a curried rice with cauliflower and chickpeas dish I made the other night, without complaint.  (He was being a good sport, I know.)

When we first received Emma’s diagnosis I immediately put her on a gluten free/casein free diet as so many families found it helped their child.  Some even found their child lost their diagnosis after going on it.   We had her on the diet for more than three months and saw her lose 10% of her body weight with no other noticeable change.  At the time we were working with a DAN (Defeat Autism Now) doctor, who specialized in allergies and nutrition.  During that time she became even pickier about what she’d eat and by the time we took her off of the diet, she was eating soy yogurt and scrambled eggs, shunning “good” foods she once ate, such as vegetables, chicken or fish.  Years later someone told me that soy is another food to be avoided and that may have been the reason we saw no change.  All these years later, I still wonder whether we did the diet wrong, if we’d removed all soy products, perhaps we would have seen some significant change.

A friend of mine suggested the GAPS diet, created by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride who “fully recovered” her own child with her diet.  The problem is, there isn’t a single thing allowed on this diet that Emma currently eats.  In addition it is a labor intensive diet, requiring one to make homemade condiments – such as mayonnaise, ketchup, etc as well as yogurt.  BUT – I am still willing to look into it and have purchased the book describing the diet as well as the cookbook with various recipes.  (Richard is groaning as he reads this as he no doubt is remembering the fanaticism with which I tackled the GFCF diet.)

Before I even contemplate starting the GAPS diet, I will take her to a new pediatrician who is said to be versed in autism and am trying to encourage her to try some new foods.  I intend to document our progress and (hopefully) hers on this blog.

Last night I introduced Emma to a piece of Comice pear, peeled.

She was tentative, but eventually after smelling it, licking it and touching it, she finally ate it!

This morning I gave her a small bite of a Fuji apple, which she immediately picked up and ate without hesitation.  Tonight I will go out on a limb and try a raspberry.

Emma on her way to the school bus this morning.

If anyone reading this has had success with any sort of diet, please contact me with what you tried and any progress you saw in your child.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.Emma’sHopeBook.com

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Waking Nic – Autism

Posted on October 5, 2011 by | Leave a comment

Last night Emma woke Nic up – again.

“No Mom, it was really bad.  She woke me up like five times. I swear Mom, FIVE times,” he held up one hand and wiggled all five fingers at me.

“What did you say to her?” I asked, stroking his somewhat greasy hair, while wondering if I should insist he wash it before school, then deciding he would be late for his bus and anyway it wasn’t all that bad.

“I told her she had to leave.”  He leaned against me, and said, “I told her – Emma!  You have to go back to your own room.”

“What did she do?” I asked.

“She went back to her room.  But then she came back. Like at three, then five, then six.”  He looked at me and pretended to fall asleep, collapsing in a heap on my lap.

“Hey Emma!” I called.  “You cannot wake up Nic.  It’s not okay to wake up Nic.”  But if I’m telling the truth, I was just a tiny bit relieved that she woke up Nic and not me.  I rationalized this “bad mother” thought with – He’s young and can handle sleep deprivation much better than I can.   Meanwhile Nic continued to mime sudden unconsciousness by falling on the ground, back on his bed, then into my arms, like some sort of narcoleptic preteen.

“You cannot wake up Nicky!”  Emma parroted, using her stern voice.

“Yeah, Em.  That’s just not cool,” Nic said.

I told Emma that since she woke up her brother, she couldn’t bring her  beloved “string” (a piece of packing tape) out of her bedroom.  She was very upset by this and said, “You cannot wake Nicky.  But listen, if you wake Nicky no string.”  Then she began to cry.

By the time it was time to go down to wait for her school bus, Emma was calm and said, “It’s okay.  Next time you cannot wake Nicky.  Then string can come out of the bedroom.”

I gave her a hug.  “That’s right Em.  It’ll be okay.”

Emma waiting for her bus this morning wearing a “pretty dress”.

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Biting and Other Self Injurious Behaviors – Autism

Posted on September 22, 2011 by | Leave a comment

Yesterday Emma came home from school with her forearm covered in bite marks.  I sat down next to Emma on her bed and gently touched her arm.

“You bit!”  She said sadly.

“I can see that,” I said, stroking her arm.

“I want to unlock it,” she said, twirling a scrap of what was once her blanket around and around her index finger.  “I want cokie,” she added.

I continued to stroke her arm.

“You cannot bite!  Emma!  No biting!”  She shouted.

When Emma is very upset, she begins to script.  In other words she mimics things others have said to her using the same tone of voice and if they have an accent, she’ll say the words with the same accent.  It’s a bizarre experience to listen to your upset child alternate between using someone else’s words, tone and inflections and her own voice, as though she were auditioning for all the roles in a play with an ensemble cast.  Sometimes she’ll throw me into the mix – “Oh sweetheart!”  and then severe and scolding – “You cannot bite!  That is not okay,” with her own pleading, “I want cokie, I don’t want to lock it up,” then the logical, calm tone of a teacher or therapist, “You can have cokie later.  First go to the roof, then you can have cokie.”  Her face crumples up while she fights back the tears, often losing the battle and collapsing into an anguished heap of heaving sobs and cries.

At a certain point, when her frustration, anger and upset become more than she can bear she turns it inward and becomes violent toward herself.  The emotions too great for her to contain, she bites herself, leaving the imprint of a full set of teeth upon her arm or finger or hand.  Once, when I held her arm to prevent her from hurting herself she jerked her other arm away and punched herself hard in the face.  The force with which she did this, took my breath away.

I mentioned on this blog, once before, when I was younger I struggled with bulimia.  A more accurate description would be less a struggle and more a complete and utter surrender to the eating disorder.  A therapist I was seeing at the time talked of the act of vomiting as self inflicted violence and I remember being furious with this description.  I wasn’t being violent toward myself, I was simply pursuing a thinner physique.  But after years and years of therapy and then recovery I came to recognize the violence in what I had done to myself for all those years.  When I see my own daughter hurting herself it is impossible for me not to reflect on those years of frustration and rage.

Emma’s acts of self injurious behavior are expressions of her rage, frustration and there is an added piece to this, I am convinced – the desire to control the pain, coupled with her many and varied sensory issues.  I think the combination is deadly.  But how to help her?

That is the question I have no solid answer to.  For now we are trying to explore other ways for her to get her sensory needs met without hurting herself.  However I know from having engaged in destructive behavior for more than two decades how entrenched and addictive that behavior can become.  There are no easy solutions, but then autism itself is like that.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Autism – Daughters (continued)

Posted on September 21, 2011 by | Leave a comment

I so wanted a little girl, I so looked forward to having a little girl who would feel safe enough to confide in me, the way I have always felt able to confide in my own mother.  (I feel a great deal of gratitude for that.)  I know how fortunate I am to have an amazing mom.  I have conversations with friends who audibly groan when the subject of their own mothers come up.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother,” is something I’ve heard on more than a few occasions, uttered by exasperated adult children.  The famously “bad mothers” occupy several shelves of literature, poetry, plays and movies.  We all know them by name and every few years a few more get tossed onto the pile.  Beyond enjoying the guilty deer-stuck-in-the-headlights-horror of those stories, I cannot relate to them, thankfully.

My mother taught me how to sew and macrame, (this was the 60’s & 70’s) embroider, quilt and knit.  She showed me how to bake bread, make baclava, beef wellington and a fifty layer Daubache Torte.  I think I can justifiably credit my mother for my love of design and current career.  She read stories to me at bedtime and sang songs.  I remember sitting on the vanity in her bathroom as she got dressed to go out to a party.  I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.  I watched her as her hair turned grey and her fingers became deformed by arthritis.  I spoke with her about the aches and pains that come with growing old.  I looked to her the way one consults a Michelin Guide in a foreign country, she has always shown me the way.

Perhaps it is the same for Emma, I cannot know.  I know she feels connected to me as I do her.  I know when she wants something and I can often understand what she’s trying to say, even when the words come out wrong.  Lately she has even run to me when she’s hurt, though more often than not, I will have to prompt her, much the way I still must remind her to – “wrap your arms around and squeeze” when she hugs.

“You have to go see the nurse!”  Emma will shout when she hurts herself.  Then she’ll hightail it into our bathroom where she knows we keep a large supply of bandaids.

“Hey, Em!  How about coming to see nurse mommy?” I’ll ask blocking her way.

“Ouch!  Emma has a boo-boo!”  Emma will tell me, wiping the tears from her eyes, but keeping her distance.  Unlike neuro-typical children who instinctively seek out the comfort of a parent when hurt, Emma will instead cry out for the school nurse or say nothing and just take care of things on her own.  Often this means returning with a half dozen bandaids applied to various parts of her body, making it difficult to know exactly which part was hurt.

I think the thing about all of this that’s perhaps most important, is, while I don’t have the relationship with Emma that I envisioned when I was pregnant with her, we do have a relationship.  It’s a different relationship than I have with my mother.  But it is a relationship and it continues to evolve.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Having a Daughter with Autism

Posted on September 20, 2011 by | Leave a comment

Someone asked me the other day – What’s it like having a daughter with autism?

The flippant response would be – I don’t know what it’s like to have a daughter without autism.  But the more thoughtful answer is a bit longer and more complicated.  My own experience of being a daughter to a mother with whom I feel deeply connected to, a connection that many, I have learned over the years, do not have certainly plays a role in my answer.  I have always felt my mother and I share something that goes beyond the usual feelings of responsibility and gratitude toward someone who gave so much in order that I might have a good life.  It is as though we share something much more than the history and past of living under the same roof for the first 17 years of my life, something I cannot adequately put into words.  We have a closeness, a bond and yes, a friendship that only a few of my female friends can relate to regarding their own mothers.  I have often said that if my mother were not my mother, I would wish she were.  I don’t actually know many people who can truthfully say that about their mothers.  I am lucky.  I get that.

So when I was pregnant with Emma, I fully expected to have a similar experience.  I knew right away she was a girl.  Don’t ask me how, I just knew it.  For one thing I began to wear pink, a color I never liked until Emma entered my being and for another I craved spinach and blue cheese during my first trimester, as opposed to steak and all things meat when pregnant with Nic.  Okay so I’m not being completely serious – though all of this is true – the pregnancy was different with Em, it just was.  Without meaning to or even consciously trying to, I visualized my soon to be daughter.  I knew she would have blonde hair, blue eyes and broad shoulders, as both Richard and I share these things, but beyond that I couldn’t know. I sang to her, just as I did when I was pregnant with Nic, I talked to her, read to her and dreamed about her.

While pregnant with Emma, I was walking on Fifth Avenue one afternoon, when I passed The American Girl store.  It reminded me of my first and favorite doll, Maribelle, a gift from my mother to me when I was little.  Maribelle came in a blue and grey striped trunk complete with shoes, gowns, dresses, she even had a fur coat!  (I still have Maribelle – she and her trunk reside upstairs in my mother’s house.) I saved her, intending to give her to my own daughter, were I fortunate enough to have one. Looking through the large windows of the store I fantasized of the day I would bring my daughter there and how she would choose a special doll.  A doll that would be like Maribelle was to me – a companion, a doll she would whisper secrets to and spend hours upon hours playing with.

Richard and I were not the kind of parents intent on placing our yet-to-be-born children on waiting lists of the most coveted New York City preschools, looking to the day we could sit listening to our child’s speech having graduated  from Harvard Summa Cum Laude.  Ours was a more unconventional approach – at one point we fantasized about putting all of our belongings in storage and traveling the world for a few years.  We spent many an evening discussing the places we wanted to travel to, which included Tanzania, Lebanon, Egypt, Brazil, Morocco and Laos.  We poured over guide books and vowed that once both children were out of diapers we would make our fantasies reality.  We had no way of knowing that Emma wouldn’t be out of diapers until she was eight and a half years old.  We couldn’t know that once she was out of diapers we would be scrambling to cover the staggering cost of her care, making any dreams of extensive travel abroad impossible to seriously contemplate, not to mention the sheer logistics of traveling to a foreign country with a child with special needs.

(To be continued.)

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Autism’s Murky Future

Posted on September 19, 2011 by | Leave a comment

Yesterday the New York Times ran a front page piece entitled – Autistic and Seeking a Place in an Adult World.  I am always so grateful when I see anything on autism, even when I am not told anything I don’t already know.  I am particularly grateful when I see something on autism on the front page of the New York Times.  For those of us who are parents of a child with autism, the looming question of what will happen when our child becomes an adult is something we do not have the luxury to ignore.  Yet, the answer is not readily available to us, either.  There is no road map by which we can look to.  The future of our children is very much up in the air.  It is a tricky balance keeping the fear at bay, while also being practical and realistic about ones child’s future and how we might ensure she is taken care of should she not be able to hold down a job and live independently.

My message of hope on The Hope Installation at the entrance to the High Line

The truth is we cannot know what Emma will be like in another eight years, all we can do is continue to work as intensely and extensively with her as we currently are.

So this evening when I come home from work, I will work on the word – does.  After we spend an hour or so going over the word, both using it in hand written sentences and as well as typing sentences with it, we will also use the word verbally as when I lay out a frog, a boy, a bus and a dog and say, “Hand me the one who does not eat.”  After we have done all of that we will play some games using the word “does” and finally we will go over a list of words she has already learned and review them.  Somewhere during all of this – dinner will be prepared, Nic’s homework will get done, stories will be read and everyone will eventually go to bed.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Emma’s Sense of Humor – Autism

Posted on September 15, 2011 by | Leave a comment

Emma’s sense of humor, much like everything else about her, is… quirky.  As a baby, Emma squealed with excitement when we popped out from behind things and yelled, “Boo!”  As Emma grew older she continued to delight in anything resembling silliness.  We were filled with hope when, during one of Emma’s many early intervention therapy sessions, she offered some play-doh to the therapist, only to pull it away just as the therapist reached for it.  Emma howled with laughter as the confused therapist realized Emma was playing a joke with her.

Afterward the therapist made a point of telling us how Emma’s sense of humor suggested tremendous potential, how she was expressing a desire to interact, how unusual this was for a child with autism to want to initiate in such a creative way.  Emma continues to display her silliness and creativity in surprising ways.

Emma with what’s left of her cokie  (this use to be a crib blanket filled with down).

When I came into her bedroom and saw her I said, “Em!  What are you doing with cokie?!”

To which she laughed, “Stick cokie up your nose.”

“That’s so gross, Em!”

“No not going to stick cokie up your nose, stick cokie in your ears,” she replied, still laughing.

“Ew!”

“That’s funny,” she then said.

It reminded me of when we took Nic out to eat at a Japanese restaurant.   “Look Mommy!”  He said as he unwrapped his chopsticks and stuck each into a corner of his mouth.    “I’m a walrus,” he managed to say.

My grandmother was known for, after a few drinks, rolling a napkin up, and placing it above her upper lip pretended it was a mustache – so maybe it’s genetic and not a display of extreme intelligence after all.  Not that she wasn’t extremely intelligent, she was…

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Remembering September 11, 2001

Posted on September 9, 2011 by | 1 comment

The ten year anniversary of 9/11 is this Sunday.   Since we live in New York City it’s impossible, even if one doesn’t watch TV, to not be aware of it.  Last night as Richard and I walked home, having spent the evening on our weekly “date night”, we stood with dozens of others in Union Square and looked south upon the two beams of light shooting upward from the site where the World Trade Center towers once occupied.

Nic was fifteen months old at the time and I was in my second trimester of pregnancy with Emma.  In fact, that Tuesday morning, September 11th, I had an OB/GYN appointment at the Elizabeth Seton Birthing Center.   Richard was in the shower when I looked out the window of our living room, with Nic in my arms and saw the gaping hole in the north tower made by that first plane.  I remember holding Nic and yelling to Richard, “They hit the tower again.”  I was referring to the first terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in 1993, when the terrorists detonated a truck bomb underneath the north tower.  My first thought was that this too was done with a bomb.  It wasn’t until we ran up to the roof of our building, just as the second plane hit the other tower, that we began wondering whether this might not be terrorists, whether it was some bizarre coincidence or whether airplanes were being used as bombs.

We readied ourselves to keep our appointment and off we went to the birthing center, just five blocks south from where we live.  My midwife’s best friend worked in one of the towers and I remember she was visibly upset and worried.  Other than that, I remember little of my routine exam, beyond feeling dazed and concerned with the events that were occurring outside of the birthing center.  (Years later, after Emma was diagnosed, one of the many specialists we saw wondered that there might be a connection to the rise in autism and the toxins released by the collapse of the towers, but we never heard or read anything further to substantiate his thought.  It now seems unlikely as, sadly, the rate of autism has risen world wide and not just to those who lived in close proximity to the World Trade Center at the time of their fall.)  When we left the birthing center to return home, we were told the first tower had collapsed and the magnitude of what was happening began to seep in.  Still Richard, who’s office was in Soho, went off to work and I returned home to Nic and our new caregiver who had been hired the day before.

As the events began to unfold, the day became increasingly surreal with reports coming in regarding the other planes, the president’s whereabouts were unknown, our cell phones didn’t work, the bridges and tunnels were closed, and the sirens from the police cars and fire trucks citywide created a cacophony of deafening sound impossible to ignore.

The next few weeks remain a blur in my mind with various images melding together to create a kind of collage of memories – Not being able to sleep because it began to rain and worrying about all the survivors who would be wet and hungry.  (This was before we fully realized there were almost no survivors.)  Walking on Fifth Avenue and seeing a tall man covered in tattoos, weeping.  Hugging a total stranger in Washington Square park where people had posted flyers with photographs of missing friends and relatives.  The smell of burning rubble, the quiet that descended upon the city like a thick carpet and through it all the unbearable, collective grief that we all felt.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Asking – Autism

Posted on September 8, 2011 by | Leave a comment

I remember the first time Emma’s older brother, Nic asked permission to do something.  He was about 14 months old and he asked if it was okay to take a particular toy with him to the playground.  It was noteworthy for a number of reasons, but as his mom, I remember thinking how incredible it was that this tiny child understood that if you asked, rather than just did something, chances were you would be able to do whatever it was.  The whole “polite” thing wasn’t part of the equation yet, but it soon came to be, shortly thereafter.

With Emma it was different right from the beginning.  For one thing, she didn’t ask questions as much as demand that her basic needs were met.  Because her language was severely delayed, she would often drag one of us to the refrigerator and indicate what she wanted.  As she didn’t “want” our attention, toys or many of the things other neuro-typical children do, there was less motivation to ask for things.

As Nic grew older his questions became more complicated and interesting.  Suddenly we were discussing such topics as religion, questioning the existence of God and if there was a God, who made him.  Could there be a heaven without a “God”, why did people die, was there life beyond our planet earth, how did we come to be and what was our purpose, where did the earth come from, how is it possible that the universe is infinite and what does that mean, exactly.  Nic also became curious about Richard and my experiences.  He wanted to know if I’d ever felt scared (yes!), whether I was nervous when in front of new people (often), when did I know what I wanted to be when I grew up (that concept continues to evolve), when did Richard and I meet, and the questions have never stopped.

Emma does not ask questions about life and the world.  She has never asked me a personal question.  But she has learned to ask for things that she needs or wants.  Often the question is a demand with an upward lilt added, making the demand more palatable, as in  – “Go to the zoo?”  “See the snake bite boy?” “Apple juice?”  However lately her questions have changed slightly.  It’s a subtle difference, but I have noticed it a number of times in the last few days.  This morning she came into the study (this in and of itself is startlingly new as in the past she would simply ask from where ever she was and then when no one responded because no one heard her, she would begin to scream until someone appeared) but today she found me and said, “Mommy?”  Then she waited for me to respond.  When I looked up, she said, “Can I have a caramel yogurt?”  Again she waited for my response.  This too is different.  In the past she might have asked if I was standing nearby and then after uttering the words she would have raced off, not waiting for a response.  The question was rhetorical.

“Sure Em.  Go have a caramel yogurt,” I said.

To which she ran off, only to reappear a few minutes later saying, “Okay.  Last one caramel yogurt?  Eat one more and then it’s all done.”

“Yeah.  Okay, Em.  That sounds good.  Go have another one.”

“Okay!”  She yelled as she went back into the kitchen.

Last night she found me in the bathroom, where I was brushing my teeth.  “Mommy?”  She waited.

“Yes, Em?”

“Can I watch Winnie-the-Pooh?”  Again she stood looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

“Sure Em.  But first put on your nightie and brush your teeth.  Okay?”

“Okay!”  she said tearing off to change.

I cannot describe my surprise at her actually waiting for me to respond.  This is new and a welcome change.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Siblings – Autism

Posted on September 6, 2011 by | 1 comment

Nic is Emma’s older, neuro-typical brother.   Nic is eleven, about to enter the sixth grade and an all around amazing kid.  Having Emma as his younger sister is often difficult for Nic, though he usually doesn’t complain.  The siblings of children with autism are often burdened with responsibilities far beyond their years.  Despite our attempts to encourage Nic not to take on the role of her personal body guard, supervisor and parent, he often does on his own accord.  He can’t help himself.  He worries about Emma.

Nic has witnessed horrific and violent melt downs.  He has seen Emma punch herself in the face, bite herself repeatedly on the hand or arm.  He has stood by helplessly as she screamed and shrieked her frustration at not being understood.  He has joined in countless searches for such bizarre and arbitrary items as a missing balloon string, a piece of packing tape, a scrap of paper, a specific photograph or a microscopic shred of what is left of her blanket.  He has panicked with us when one of us uttered the dreaded words:  “Where is Emma?”

Nic is older than Emma by 21 months, yet he is very much the adult to her childlike innocence.   In an effort to give Nic time to enjoy himself without the stresses that can come with Emma, Richard and I spend at least one day a week with Nic, alone.

So yesterday, instead of going into my studio I asked Nic if he wanted to hang out with me.

“I’d love that Mom,” he said, nodding his head.  “We’ll have some Mom and son time.”

We ended up going to Elephant and Castle (a place that’s been around for almost forty years and where I used to love going when I was in college because of their bowls of latte) for lunch.  We discussed the coming school year, who he hoped would be in his class and what teachers he hoped to have.

“What are the top five things you like best about yourself?” I asked.

“I like that I’m a good person, I’m kind, thoughtful, I care about people, I want to help people and I work really hard.”

“You do!  That’s all so true,” I said.

“I like that I’m an average skateboarder,” he added.

“You’re a really good skateboarder.  What do you mean by that?”

“I like that I’m okay, but not great yet, it gives me something to work toward.  Cause like if I was really great and already knew everything, that wouldn’t be as much fun,” he took a bite of his cheeseburger.  “Mom, you’ve got to try this.  It’s amazing!”  He offered me a bite of his burger.

“Okay, if you could change anything about yourself, what would it be?” I asked.

“I’d be a genius,” he answered without hesitation.  “What about you?”

“I’d be more patient and not so quick to anger,” I said.

“I think you’re perfect just the way you are, Mom.  I don’t think you have to change a thing,” he said, patting my arm.

“Wow, Nic.  That’s such an incredibly kind and lovely thing to say.”

“It’s okay Mom.  It’s true,” he said looking at me and smiling.

That’s Nic – kind, supportive, incredibly loving and thoughtful.

After we had lunch we went to the movies, then took a walk and talked some more.

“This was a great day, Mom.  Thanks for suggesting it,” Nic said as we made our way home.

“I loved it, Nic.  I loved spending today with you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We walked together in silence for awhile, then Nic said,  “Mom?”

“Yeah Nic?”

“Do you think we could get a dog?”

For more on our family’s journey through Emma’s childhood of autism, go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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