Category Archives: Parenting

“Why is my Mind Autistic and Yours is Not?”

Yesterday Emma wrote, “Why is my mind autistic and yours is not?”

That sentence took over two minutes for her to write.  I say this as a factual statement so that people reading this have a better understanding of the enormous effort and energy it takes for my daughter to communicate.  If it took everyone a few minutes to communicate a single sentence, perhaps we would be more thoughtful about what we said and wrote.  Two minutes.  With someone like Soma, Emma is able to write much more quickly, but I am fairly new to this (I’ve been working with Emma on an alphabet board on a daily basis since the end of September) and so with me, it takes longer.  With someone else it may take even longer still, or she may not be able to write more than a single word.   But the more salient point is, that sentence is gold, and worth every second it takes for her to point to one letter at a time to create words and then whole sentences.

Until we found this way of communicating, we were left guessing about Emma’s likes and dislikes, what interested her, what she was curious about.  And while there were a great many things we knew or believed we knew without her telling us, there was also a great deal more that we did not know or understand.  For example, I was astonished to learn last week that Emma was curious about Africa and wanted to know why so many of it’s inhabitants are poor.  Later I asked her if she’d like me to read about an African photojournalist, Echwalu, whom I love and whose blog I follow, Echwalu Photography .  She said she was interested.  We have since begun subscribing to National Geographic and I am now reading articles from the New York Times to her.

“Why is my mind autistic and yours is not?”

So I did my best to explain that no one actually knows the answer to that question.  I explained that most people believe genetics plays a role and that though I am not autistic, I do share a great many “autistic-like” traits.  I went on to explain that there is more about autism that is unknown than there is known and then our session time was up.  Emma went to listen to music while I thought more about her question, and resolved to read to her the Markram’s, Intense World Theory.  I thought about how our brains differ, but also how much they are alike.

I thought about how relatively easy it is for me to communicate and how I take most of my communication for granted.  In fact there is so much I take for granted.  I thought about how easy some things are for Emma, things that I am not able to do, like singing on key, being able to remember a melody and imitate it note for note.  Her ability to absorb knowledge without having been taught, like multiplication, division, vocabulary words, to name just a few.

This idea that Autism is a massive list of deficits needs to change.  The truth is we, non Autistics know almost nothing about Autism and what it means to be Autistic.  In fact, the human brain is constantly astonishing neuroscientists.  To say we understand or know without a doubt what any one of us is able to do is to underestimate, not just ourselves, but everyone else too.

Emma ~ 2012

Emma ~ 2012

Conversing With Emma

I asked Emma if I could write about a conversation she had with Soma last week.  She told me I could.

Emma told Soma she wanted to open a day care center.  When Soma asked her what she’d call it, Emma wrote, “Emma’s Hope Care.”  Soma then asked what the philosophy of the center would be and Emma wrote, “No Autistic child left behind.”  And then a little later Emma wrote, “early education” and “no behavior management.”  Soma asked Emma where this center would be located, Emma wrote that she intended to have several, but that the headquarters would be in Chicago.  I smiled when she wrote that as my brother and his wife live nearby as does our friend Ibby, or as Emma calls her, “Ibby from Ibbia”.  Emma also said there would be a center in New York.

This was an easy back and forth conversation, with Soma giving her thoughts about things then asking Emma for her thoughts or Emma volunteering her opinion without being asked. Emma pointed to letters on a laminated alphabet board while Soma spoke, and on it went.  It was an example of something most speaking people take for granted.  We do not think twice about exchanging an idea with another, asking questions about things we don’t understand, listening to the other person, formulating an opinion, discussing, perhaps disagreeing, but in the end each person coming away with more information than they had before entering into the conversation.

I was fascinated to hear that my daughter knew about the “no child left behind” bill, passed by the United States Senate in June of 2001 and signed into law in January, 2002.  I also wondered if her comment, “No Autistic child left behind”,  was said with a touch of irony and humor, perhaps even sarcasm, as the current situation in so many special education schools in New York City, both public and private, are leaving a great many Autistic children behind.  In fact children, like my daughter, are regularly put into classrooms where a high school diploma is not a given, much less a goal.  Not only has Emma told me she wants to get a high school diploma, but she intends to go to college as well.

But what I loved most about what Emma wrote was her obvious compassion for others and her desire to do good.  Last fall she wrote about wanting to visit “old people” and then added, or “people in a cancer hospital.”  Funny how when you listen and watch what Autistic people are saying and doing, it is not in keeping with what so many non autistic “professionals” are saying about them.

A completely unrelated photograph of Emma holding Teddy.

Emma holding Teddy

Emma holding Teddy

Questions & Learning

“Did you see the Grammy’s?”  Emma asked Soma yesterday.

And as I sat nearby watching, I marveled at how surprised I was by this question.    In part because she was asking a question, something Emma does a great deal of when she is working with Soma, but not so much with me yet.  I can’t tell you how much I look forward to that…

My surprise was not just limited to the fact that she was asking a question though, it was also because I often wonder how she knows all the things she knows.  “The Grammy’s?” I found myself thinking.  “How does she even know about the Grammy’s?  Where did she see anything about the Grammy’s?”  “Richard and I didn’t watch the Grammy’s.  I can’t even tell you when the Grammy’s were.

After Soma told Emma that she had watched the Grammy’s, Soma asked Emma where she’d seen them.

Emma wrote, “At the airport TV.”

The airport TV?  Seriously?  I didn’t even see a television, let alone notice what was on.  When we arrived at the airport we checked our bag, went through security and went looking for our gate, and when we finally found it, I don’t remember seeing a television anywhere near the seats we finally found to wait for our flight.   What else has she seen in passing?  What else would she like to know about?  What things would she be interested in learning about?  

I write all of this, because Richard and I often ask each other, “But where did she learn that?”  or “How does she know about that?”  And, well…  this is, but one answer.  There is information everywhere and my daughter is picking up information all the time.

I used to assume there was an input issue with learning, but my daughter continues to defy this idea.  An output issue?  Yes.  Input?  Evidently that’s my issue, not hers.

*Emma has given me permission to publish this on the blog.

Emma ~ January 29th, 2014

Emma ~ January 29th, 2014

A Short Interview With Emma

This is a short interview I did with Emma this morning about speaking, writing, and words.  

Ariane:  Do you have an inner dialogue?  You know, where you have a running conversation in your head?

Emma:  I do not think in words.

Ariane:  So that must make it hard to articulate what you are thinking and feeling.

Emma:  Yes, it is frustrating.  I am often unable to express myself even in writing.

Ariane:  Any suggestions for those of us who think in words?

Emma:  Do not think so much.  Empathy and love are not conveyed with words.

Texas ~ September, 2013

Texas ~ September, 2013

Stem Cell Treatments

“You thought my autism was hurting me and that you needed to remove it, but you did not understand that it is a neurological difference and fear caused you to behave with desperation.”  ~  Emma on the topic of the three stem cell treatments we did in 2010

Every now and then people find this blog through a site that promotes stem cell treatments in Central America.  In our long and twisted journey since Emma was diagnosed with autism, stem cell treatments were something we once hoped would help our daughter.  It is a decision I deeply regret.  People ask me whether I think it may have helped her.  I do not.  People have wondered whether the tremendous strides Emma has made are not directly related to those stem cell treatments.  They are not.  I can say this with assurance.   If you want to learn more about how Emma is communicating, click on this link.  The stem cell treatments put Emma’s life in danger.   We have no way of knowing what we may have exposed her to because of those treatments.  For the rest of our lives we will not know if the stem cell treatments harmed her.  We will never know and that is a fact we must live with.

In April of 2010, we believed anything was worth trying if it would help our daughter.   Just four years ago, I believed being Autistic meant a life of untold misery.  Autism was a list of deficits.  At the time, I doubted whether my daughter would be able to learn to read and write, let alone speak in a conversational manner.   I had no idea what my daughter was capable of.  I had no idea that she already knew how to read.  I know this now because she has told me through her writing.

We took Emma to Costa Rica and later to Panama for three rounds of stem cell treatments despite being strenuously urged not to go by a team of stem cell researchers out of Harvard.  We were cautioned about the experimental nature of this procedure.  We were told it was risky, dangerous, highly invasive, and yet we made the decision to take her anyway.  We did this because we loved our child and, at the time, believed anything we tried was worth it, if it might “save” her.  (I use that word purposely because this was what we once believed.)  We believed we were giving her a chance at life, we believed, if we did not try this, we would regret it.  We held out hope that maybe, just maybe this would help her communicate and thereby give her the opportunity to form friendships.    

I’m not going to go on a rant about all the misinformation we were given by well meaning professionals, educators, medical experts and pretty much every single person we came into contact with on the subject of autism and our daughter, all of that is pretty well documented throughout this blog over the last year and half, but I will say this, our response to autism and what we believed that meant for our daughter was not unique.  We knew of a great many parents who believed just as we did, that any treatment was better than doing nothing at all.

This blog began as a result of those stem cell treatments.  I never thought more than a handful of people would read what I was writing.  This blog was a way to document the changes we hoped we would see because of the stem cell treatments, a treatment that is not allowed in the United States, a treatment that has since been outlawed in Costa Rica as well.  We believed we were doing a good thing.   For those of you who never contemplated such drastic measures, I understand how incredible this must sound.  For those of you who are Autistic, I can only tell you how sorry I am that this was what we once believed.

We all make mistakes.  Some of us have made terrible ones; things we cannot undo, take back or cancel out with an apology, no matter how heartfelt.  What I can do is continue to learn, hope to do better, and do all I can to counter that list of deficits so commonly attached to an autism diagnosis, while signal boosting Autistic people’s words, including my daughter’s.

Last night Emma and I discussed those stem cell treatments from four years ago and she wrote the words I opened this post with.  When I told her that if I could take those treatments back, if I could cancel them out, I would, in an instant and without hesitation.   She then wrote, “Many parents have not loved their children as much as you.

This isn’t about forgiveness, I know she forgives me, this isn’t about publicly beating myself up, this isn’t about me learning to forgive myself, this isn’t about me at all.  This is about misinformation, where that misinformation leads us and the inherent problem with speaking about autism as a “medical disorder” as opposed to a neurological difference; a difference that carries assets and deficits just as non autistic neurology does.  This is about oppression, segregation, prejudice and how that plays out in every aspect of autism, autism research, autism treatments, biomed interventions and almost all of the various autism therapies that currently exist.

“Put it on the blog!” Emma said, after we talked about all of this.  

“Really?  You want me to put this on the blog?”

“Yes,” she said and then she leaned over, gave me little kisses and added, “Aw… sweetheart…”

Emma walking among ruins in Panama ~ 2010

Emma walking among ruins in Panama ~ 2010

“There is Wisdom in the Echo Silence Makes”

“I want to talk about autism, but I am dear-like because badly needed information is angering.

Assuring many people understand about neurology they do not have is difficult.

I want the world to have another opinion to work with.

I am happy but people find that impossible to believe.  That causes me anxiety.

Acceptance and kindness are crucial for all people.  As one who is constantly thought less than, forgiveness is like a soothing bath and the talking people might learn more if they did not talk so much.

There is wisdom in the echo silence makes.”

Emma just wrote this.  She asked that I put it on the blog.

“There is wisdom in the echo silence makes.”

It turns out we are living with the buddha.

Emma ~ 2004

Emma ~ 2004

Prejudice & Autism

Emma and I have been discussing the civil rights movement and the events throughout American history that led up to it.  We’ve discussed the word segregation and what it means to a society when we isolate a group of people and how people come to form opinions about other people they’ve never met.

We have discussed the word prejudice  and how it is preconceived opinions based on an idea rather than factual.  We’ve talked about how those preconceived ideas almost always do harm.  We’ve discussed oppression and how many who’ve been oppressed internalize that message and how it changes how they then view themselves.

Emma has asked to read a biography of Harriet Tubman and we have been discussing the importance of Rosa Parks and her decision to not give up her seat on a crowded bus in Montgomery, Alabama.  We have not yet talked about Martin Luther King, Malcolm X or Thurgood Marshall, though Emma wrote that she has heard of the first two, and for all I know, may know of all three.

When I asked Emma to write something about Harriet Tubman, she wrote, “defender of freedom.”  This was a couple of months ago and I was shocked because the only time I’d mentioned Harriet Tubman to Emma was about three years ago.  I had read one of those beginning readers to Emma about Harriet Tubman before bedtime. And while I always hoped she might be listening, even if only a little, I wasn’t convinced she understood what I was reading.  This was during those years before I realized Emma understood everything.  It was during those years when I believed what I was being told, that my daughter was only able to understand the most basic concepts, and even those, it was often questioned just how much she understood.

Prejudice is when we form opinions about people, that are not based in fact. Prejudice makes us blind, it twists our minds into thinking we understand or know, even when we do not.  It can make us deny facts, or decide that what is true, is not real.

As Emma never indicated that she was listening, much less taking everything in, I often wondered.  But a couple of people had encouraged me to “act as if” and so I did my best.  I remember when I read the biography of Helen Keller and later she asked me to read it to her again.  Still, despite the now obvious evidence, I doubted and even when I wasn’t actively doubting, I wondered.  Often.  It was as though I could not make the mental leap to believe what increasingly seems obvious in retrospect.  Prejudice is like that, it fools us into believing we understand things about a group of people that we do not.

As James H. Cone writes in his book Black Theology & Black Power – “How should I respond to a world which defines me as a nonperson?”  And later in the same book, he writes, “A man is free when he can determine the style of his existence in an absurd world; a man is free when he sees himself for what he is and not as others define him.”

Emma in Colorado - 2010

Emma in Colorado – 2010

“Be Patient With Me…”

“Be patient with me, Mommy.”

This is what Emma wrote on the airplane coming home when we were delayed yet again.  This was what she wrote after spending four hours waiting to board the aircraft, an aircraft that never took off, a plane that sat at the gate for another two hours waiting for the pilot to show up, an airplane that we then had to de-plane when that same pilot never arrived, forcing us to stand for two and a half hours in the airline’s customer care line, only to be told we would not be able to get home for three more days, oh and by the way, our luggage was nowhere to be found.  Oops.  Sorry.  Shrug.

“Be patient with me…”

There were tears and a struggle to contain the overwhelming feelings of panic and exhaustion.  Cries and fists that pummeled, teeth that bit, flailing limbs, and I was right there, wanting to do the same.  Wanting to lash out.  Wanting to scream and do something that would make it all go away.  Change reality.  Change these feelings.  Change these circumstances.  Scream.  Disappear into the screams.  Clench my jaw, grind my teeth, breathe, clench, grind, breathe, clench, grind, breathe…

“Be patient with me…”

“You’re impatient,” people have repeatedly observed and thought to tell me.  Yeah.  I know.  That feeling that begins as mild anxiety, builds into an almost impossible feeling of discomfort…  the feeling that if I don’t DO something, anything right now, I will die… that’s my impatience.  I get that now, though I didn’t always.  It used to be I didn’t know what those feelings were called, I just knew I would do just about anything to avoid them.

“Be patient…”

There’s an ongoing irony to parenting.  How many times have I admonished my children to do the very thing I lack or am incapable of?  I remember going to a parent/teacher conference at my son’s school.  He was in grade school at the time and the teacher made a comment about how he needed to work on building his tolerance for frustration.  I replied, “Yup, that’s something his mom’s still working on too.”  The teacher looked at me with surprise.

“Be patient…”  

I try.  I am trying.  But don’t use me as a model.  I’m not very patient.  I tend to be controlling too.  I don’t like when things change suddenly, I feel calmer when I know what will happen next.  I don’t love spontaneity, it messes with my sense of order.  And once I’m in overwhelm, once the feelings are coming at me so quickly, I cannot access my thoughts, it doesn’t occur to me to say to the person I’m with, “Be patient with me…”

But my daughter did.  My daughter was able to get in touch with what she needed from me during a time of heightened distress.  So who was helping whom in that moment?  Was I helping her or was she helping me?

“Be patient with me…”

Em & N. ~ 2010

Em & N. ~ 2010

How We Got Here

I was asked recently to talk about the process that led to my daughter being able to write the insightful posts she’s been writing of late.  And while I initially thought I HAD written about all of this and so much more throughout this blog, upon further reflection I realized I have not written about the process in a condensed form, so will attempt to do so now.  (Wish me luck.)  For those of you who are interested in a more detailed, chronological version of what we’ve been doing that has led to Emma writing posts like ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this’ and ‘this‘ for this blog (and to see the daily progress) you can enter terms such as, RPM, Halo, Soma, communication and non-speaking in the “search” box or just begin reading the posts starting in mid-September until now.   For those of you who are REALLY curious, you can go back to October, 2012 when I went to the Autcom Conference.

There’s no way to say that on such and such date everything changed.  Like so much in life it was the incremental, seemingly, not-so-important things that occurred one after the other that then allowed for the next thing and the next until there was that moment we remembered and now look back upon and say, “oh yes, that was when everything shifted.”  Our version of having a – Helen Keller moment –  the day when W-A-T-E-R suddenly made sense, didn’t happen.  At least not like that.  There wasn’t any ONE moment when it all changed, but more a series of moments one after the other that led to a number of “OH!” moments.

One of those “OH!” moments was when Emma went to see Soma Mukhopadhyay (I wrote about that session ‘here‘) and we sat with tears streaming down our cheeks because Emma knew how to spell October and that it was a month in Autumn.  Another moment, previous to that, was when Emma was working with Pascal (documented ‘here‘) over a year ago.  Pascal “asked Em what she would do if she went into her own bedroom and found baby bear in her bed, Em typed, “I would be scared and I would watch his mother.”

I read that sentence several times.  How can I describe the feelings that came with reading it?  How can I express the surge of hope I felt?  How can I possibly describe the feeling of euphoria?  This sentence, this idea was beyond what I have come to expect.  It suggested a whole other level of thinking, a thought process far beyond anything she has been able to express before.”

In retrospect it seems incredible that all of this came as such a shock to us, but it did.  As I’ve said before, we knew nothing.  Literally.  Nothing.  But we thought we knew a great deal.  We knew what we’d been told up until that point and then it seemed as though over night, we realized everything we thought we knew was wrong.  So it was little moments just like these, over and over and over again, that continued to happen leading up to the first time I took Emma to see Soma in Texas (described in more detail ‘here‘, ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘) last September and then returning home and not being able to replicate what Soma was doing. But I was so determined and had to fight how depressed I felt because Emma seemed unable to write words that I’d just seen her write with Soma and yet with me, nothing.  Nothing at all.  There was self-doubt and fear, just tremendous fear that I wouldn’t be able to learn how to do this.  Fear that I would never be able to communicate with my daughter in the way I witnessed her communicating with others like Soma and Rosie and Pascal and Harvey and Leah.

So I had to begin at the beginning with simple choices and felt so impatient and so worried that this was how it was going to be for the rest of our lives.  But I kept showing up each day and making us do our “study room” together setting a timer for ten minutes and then 15 and then 20 and eventually up to 45 minutes and making lesson plans and wondering, wondering, always wondering whether she would be able to get to the point where she could trust me and write with me as I saw her writing with Soma.

I found a woman in NYC whom Soma had trained and we began taking Emma to see her too and I studied the videos of Soma working with Emma and I made notes and spent hours and hours pouring over them and making lesson plans and practicing.  I wrote out scripts of exactly what I would say during our “study room” session, leaving nothing to chance and I kept at it. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but actually it was more like six weeks, I arranged to have a Skype call with Soma, having sent her a video of me working with Emma.  Soma advised me to ask her one open ended question at the end of each lesson, which I hadn’t dared do as the one session I had, it was a disaster and she wouldn’t answer me.  I said as much to Soma.  I told her I didn’t think we were ready for that and Soma said, oh yes, but she’s ready.  You must ask something simple at the end of each lesson. So I did.  I did because Soma was so matter-of-fact and sure that this was what needed to happen next.

Emma began answering these open ended questions, at first with a few words and then with longer, more complex sentences.  I began to ask clarifying questions and now…  now look at her go!  It makes me cry thinking about this actually.  I couldn’t have known it would all happen as quickly as it did.  At the time, the process seemed to take forever, but looking back one’s perspective is different and I see it as very fast and I’m just so grateful for all that work, for all those days I struggled and cried to my husband and didn’t believe it would ever be any other way…

By the way, I DO think those Helen Keller moments that Hollywood then immortalizes, has all of us very impatient and thinking life is like that. Of course you and I know, life isn’t so simple or easy, nothing ever is. There’s work, hard, hard work and hours upon hours of showing up over and over again, and then slowly change occurs and it seems incredible, even miraculous!  But no one sees all that work, all those days when things didn’t go well, all those days when tempers flared, when there were tears and frustration and doubt and even disbelief that it would ever be different… until it is.

To all of you reading this – this has been my experience, as a parent, as someone who has always been terribly impatient, but determined.  Emma’s experience has been different (I’m hoping she’ll want to write about that at some point.) Everyone’s experience will differ, but perhaps, just perhaps, my experience will be useful to those of you just beginning, or will bring a smile of recognition to those of you ahead of me, either way, none of us need do this alone.  I didn’t and I am so grateful to all of you who have helped me help my daughter get to where she is now.

Em & Ariane on New Year's Eve ~ 2013

Em & Ariane on New Year’s Eve ~ 2013

An Interview With Emma About Stimming

What follows is an interview I conducted this morning with Emma about stimming.  Emma patiently tried to explain to me what stimming is like for her.  

A:  Is it okay to ask you some questions about stimming?  (For those of you unfamiliar with the term, stimming is a repetitive action or verbal output.)

E:  Stimming is fun.  And I am in calming and obedient service to those who are in charge.

A:   Are you being facetious when you write “obedient service to those who are in charge?”

E:  (Smiles)  Yes.  (Laughs)  The stim is a great way to roam around feelings that are too intense.  You treat me like a baby.”

A: Are you speaking specifically to me or are you using a more universal “you”?

E:  All people out there.  Bloated feelings despair and anger me.  Almost all feel too much to manage and I cannot be present all the time.

A:  Can you tell me more about stimming?

E:  I am not able to write about stimming because words cannot describe it.

A:  Can I ask some specific questions about it though?

E: Yes.  (Leans over and gives me kisses on my cheek.)

A: Is stimming ever not fun?

E:  Yes.  When feelings are too extreme, even a good stim won’t help.

A:  Is there anything that will help?

E:  A lot of patience and love.  Acknowledge my attempts to self-care and do not cause me more pain by trying to change or control me.

A:  What happens if someone stops or tries to stop you from stimming?

E:  It makes thick feelings worse.

A:  Do you ever feel stuck in repetitive loops?

E:  Yes, but so do others who are not autistic, but they are called passionate and are looked up to instead of looked down on.

A:  Yesterday you wrote: “Raging beasts of pain masquerading as stims cause many to misunderstand.”  Can you elaborate on that?

E:  Stims alter the persistent anxiety of life so that I am able to function as well as I am.

A:  So you weren’t saying stims are painful as much as that they help you cope with the pain and anxiety you often feel?

E:  It is impossible to describe to all who have not experienced a lot of distress.  Day after day I am scared of people’s opinions about me because they can harm me with their beliefs about my lack of intelligence.  People treat those they believe stupid, very badly.  I am not stupid.

A:  I know you aren’t!  You are the smartest person I have ever met!!

E:  (Smiles and squeezes my arm.)  I am intelligent and cannot speak with the same brilliant words that are in my mind.

The timer goes off.

E:  Now we are all done!

A: Yes we are!  Thank you Emma for your patience with me and helping me understand.

Addendum:  I asked Emma just now if I could ask her one more question.  She told me that I could.

A:  Do you like the word “stimming” ?

E:  No.

A:  Is there another word you’d prefer?

E:  Yes, but words are not as meaningful to me as they are to those who talk all the time.

A:  If you could choose any word other than stimming, what would it be?

E:  Self-care

Em with her string!

Em with her string!

A Look Back and Then Forward…

Em wrote just now (and said I could publish what she wrote here):

“I want to talk about the New Year.

“I know it was an important year to talk to the world.  I need people to understand what it is like to be Autistic.  I could be daring by saying that, but I think it is the only way others will become more tolerant of those of us who think differently than most, and it is opportunity that both separates and connects.”

I have so many thoughts about this…  “it is opportunity that both separates and connects.”  That sentence could be the topic for an entire semester in graduate school.

After Emma wrote this, I asked her if I could share it with Richard and on here, to which she nodded and wrote “yes.”  Richard and I had different responses to the word “opportunity” but when asked to clarify, Emma was already listening to her music and as I told her our study session would last 25 minutes and no longer, I did not press her to elaborate.

I will end this brief post by saying this past year has been a monumental one for me and my family.  As I look back on previous years, there have been none that can compete.  Here’s to embarking on another incredible year filled with curiosity and wonder.  Thanks to all of you who have read, commented and/or reached out.

As Emma has advised many times over the last few months, “Be kind to each other” and “everyone should be treated kindly and with love.”

Happy New Year!

Self portrait

The Gift of Emma

In the days leading up to Christmas, Ariane excitedly told me that Emma had written, “I want to write a story about Daddy.” Ariane said it was going to be my Christmas present. Obviously, I was incredibly excited as well. But on the following day Ariane came to me after her writing session with Emma and said:

“This story is going to make you cry.”

On Christmas morning, when I untied the bow around the paper Ariane had rolled up, I braced myself. The story was indeed sad, yet hopeful, wonderful and important, like all of Emma’s stories. It was also very private, and so, days later, I still hadn’t asked Emma if I could/should publish it. Ariane asked her today and Emma said she didn’t want the entire story published, but it was okay to post this section:

“One day there was a man and woman who fell in love.  They eventually had two children, one son and one daughter.  They were very happy.  The daughter was distinctly different, but meant well.  She did not understand many of the ways of her family.

“Her father told her that she was kind and smart.  She ran away because no one believed her to be clever, even though her parents did.  Her father wanted many to realize how smart she really was.  So he told others “do not treat my daughter like a baby.”  People did not listen.

“His daughter was sad, but her parents believed in her, and that mattered more.  She was the luckiest girl in the world.”

I’m so glad Emma feels this way. I wish she were even “luckier” and we had known all these things about her many years ago. I do truly believe that I am the luckiest dad in the world. Like Emma, I feel incredibly sad that I underestimated Emma for so long, that I was so utterly clueless to this entirely different aspect of her, that I could not see and appreciate. But I feel so blessed today to hear and see all these amazing parts of Emma I had never understood.

“Better late than never” is an apt phrase to convey both the joy and sorrow I feel, now that I’m aware of what is certainly only a small fraction of Emma’s talents, feelings, insights, intelligence and her poetic soul. It is also an apt phrase to convey the necessity of getting this message out to the world, something that Emma and Ariane, and so many other autistic people and their families and friends have been struggling so hard to do for so long, in the face of an Everest-sized mountain of misinformation from so-called “autism experts.” The most heinous sub(human) class of these is the “debunking” posse, who seem to spend every waking moment of their lives trying to discredit any assisted communication methods for autistic people. Yet no matter how hard they try, and they do try really hard–they will never succeed in keeping these blindingly brilliant autistic minds imprisoned by their willful and malicious ignorance.

The three best gifts I’ve ever been blessed with are my wife Ariane (who I met at a party on Christmas day 15 years ago!), and my wonderful children, Nicholas (age 13), and Emma (who turns 12 in January).

Emma is such a wonderful gift in so many ways. I could write another (even longer) post just listing all the amazing blessings she has brought to me and our family. But I’ll simply conclude by repeating one of the sections of her story that Emma agreed to publish, because it’s the kind of “better late than never” message so many more people need to hear:

“Her father wanted many to realize how smart she really was.  So he told others ‘do not treat my daughter like a baby.’  People did not listen.”

Maybe they are listening now, Emma. Maybe more and more people will hear your voice and the voices of your autistic brothers and sisters. Maybe all these people will someday be lucky enough to experience the gift of Emma.

Emma showing off her new red beret and her new art work (a collage of relatives).

Emma showing off her new red beret and her new art work (a collage of relatives).

 

More Insights From Emma

My entire routine has been so thoroughly disrupted these past three weeks that this blog has suffered the consequences.  There’s simply too much going on, not in a bad way necessarily, but more than I have been able to keep up with.  But today…   Today both kids are out skiing and I have a few hours to write.

Emma has been writing a great deal.  In fact Emma wrote three stories as Christmas presents to her granma, her Uncle and Aunt and her dad.  Each one is beautiful and poignant and kind of over the top amazing in its complexity and layered meaning.  I transcribed the one for her granma ‘here‘.  In the story to her Uncle and Aunt, the final sentence was, “No words need to be used to hear love.”  Think about that for a second…  This kind of insight shows a level of sophistication and poetic understanding of the world few adults have managed to appreciate, let alone, express.   Emma is eleven years old.

In the story for her dad she wrote about a  daughter who, “Daily she tried to communicate her love for her family, but her words came out of her mouth wrong.  In day after day conversation she was misunderstood.  Finally she began to write on a stencil board and the words came out right.”  I am quoting this here because this is exactly the sort of thing so many of us get hung up on.  How many times have we seen or heard parents talk about their distress because their child is not able to say those three words, “I love you”?  How many times did I once, not so long ago, lament that my child had not ever said those words without being prompted to?  How often did I wonder and question her love?  And now…  now I wonder why and how could I have ever questioned those feelings?  How was it possible that I ever doubted her?  I say this lovingly and with tremendous compassion for all who have ever wondered this about their child.  We are being given incorrect information about autism and our children.  But I wonder if I would be so certain if my daughter were not writing and telling me the things that she is.

As I’ve stated before, writing is hard work for Emma and even though all of us, who receive her words, feel incredibly grateful to read anything she writes, it is difficult for Emma to express herself even in writing.  I say this as much as a reminder to myself as to inform those who may not fully appreciate how hard it is for her.  Often, when people hear that Emma is writing, and writing some pretty profound insights about the world, herself and autism, they will say, “but why not just give her an iPad or let her write on a computer?”  And then I must try to find the best words to explain.  It isn’t that easy or that simple, if it were, she would have begun writing a long time ago.

I’ve described before the process ‘here‘ and ‘here‘ that Emma uses to write, one letter pointed to at a time, on a stencil board, while a trusted person transcribes each letter or word one by one.  I have worked with Emma since the end of September almost daily and am now one of the people she can and does write with, to express herself.  She is incredibly generous in her willingness to allow me to quote her and almost always gives me permission to quote her on this blog, something I am doing more and more frequently!

This morning I talked to her about skiing with a ski pro, asking whether she’d like me to ski too.  She told me she preferred that I did not come too, and when I asked what, if anything, she wanted me to tell the ski instructor, she wrote about how she wanted to eat lunch early and then wrote, “Have to understand my mind talks heavy thoughts, but my mouth talks silliness.”   I asked her what she advised and she wrote, “Try to be patient and do not over rate talking to each other.”

A message we talkers would do well to appreciate and try our best to implement.

Emma’s Eyes ~ A Self Portrait

Em

Silence and the Words That Fill it

Emma has been writing stories to give as Christmas presents to a couple of special people in her life.  It is an exhausting process for her and one that takes a great deal of time.  As the person who is witnessing and encouraging her to keep going, it is always revelatory.  Her gift to me is her ongoing commitment to keep showing up for the hard work that is required of her to communicate in ways most people consider most important, with words.   However as I sit with her I am increasingly aware of how much, those of us who are talkers, often miss.   Because of my daughter, I have a heightened appreciation for the beauty of silence words seek to fill.

I cannot quote anything from the amazing stories Emma has written for family members, as they are gifts to be given tonight and tomorrow.  But I can quote this, which Em wrote in response to my question – “Tell me one thing about Christmas?”

Emma wrote, “Christmas means love and family.”  (This, from an eleven year old.)

There is nothing more to say.

Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate and for everyone else, may you experience love and family, in whatever way those words may mean for you this holiday season.

Why People Walk With Two Legs Instead of Four

Emma wrote this folk tale yesterday.  She gave us permission to post it here on the blog.  It took her 45 minutes, pointing to one letter after another.  She is so, so talented!

Why People Walk With Two Legs Instead of Four

“Many years ago, people were walking on all fours like many animals.  Reaching for food meant they could use front arms or back legs.  They were very strong.  Other animals were not afraid of them.  They looked at other animals as family.

“There was much to see from being so low to the ground.  There was much to touch from living in the dirt and the grass.  They tasted whatever they could. People now are more fussy with food.  The smells were all they knew.

“What is missing?

“You are right if you said:  sound.  People heard sounds from high above and they did not know where they were coming from.  The sounds were soft and silky.   Days went by without knowledge of sound.  One people leader wanted badly to hear it louder.  The only way she thought possible was to be taller.  She practiced standing on her back legs and it was successful.  Everyone else followed.  The soft and silky sounds were birds chirping.”

Emma began writing this series of folk tales while we were in Texas last month.  She has written five now and the third one was entitled, Why People Walk on Two Legs.  You can read it by clicking on the link, but in it she wrote, “They had to work in the fields wearing knee-shoes and regular shoes.  They could not run fast that way.”  I love that!  She goes on to talk about a king who had outlawed walking, until he was injured from all that crawling around and the only remedy was for him to walk, whereupon he made it legal for people to walk on their two feet and so they did, never looking back.  To me, that story was about how until we experience what another goes through, we often remain divided, though I have no idea if that was her intent.   This one is completely different, even though the titles are similar.

I am in Chicago at the TASH conference, where IbbyLeah Kelly and I are presenting first thing this morning on Relationships and Multi-media (so excited to be with my two wonderful friends!)

Em giving the Queen’s wave astride her favorite statue – Balto

Em on Balto