I never would have guessed just how remarkable the last year would be for my son. I never would have guessed that I would go from having an autistic one-year-old to a non-autistic two-year-old.
Anti-vaxxers collectively spend millions on "curing" autism with bizarre treatment-- check out "10 Batshit Autism Treatments" for more on that-- but these treatments don't work and, worse, they're dangerous. I'm happy to say that my son was "cured" of autism in the only way that is backed by scientific study and endorsed by the Amerian Academy of Pediatrics.
I'll preface this with a (fictional) story. Suppose that a toddler's parents recognize that he is left-handed. There's a safe, effective method that can teach most left-handed toddlers to become ambidextrous, and the toddler's parents use it. Within a year, the toddler is functionally ambidextrous, and is able to use tools and machines designed for right-handed people, eliminating a problem that many lefties face.
This situation would not mean that a left-handed child is defective, or broken. It wouldn't mean that people should stop accommodating the needs of left-handed children and adults. It wouldn't change the fundamental fact that the child was born left-handed. It would simply mean that the child was given tools at an early age and was able to keep the good parts of being a lefty while never needing to worry that a classroom tool is made for someone else's grasp.
This is how I see my son. He was never broken and he was never in need of healing, but I gave him the ability to thrive in a world that is not made for people like him-- to such an extent that he effectively became neurologically "ambidextrous."
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| Darwin on his first day of school, last week. |
My son Darwin's story goes like this:
At twelve months, Darwin had an extreme and sudden developmental regression. Since he had an older sister on the spectrum and had seemed "different" from birth, I contacted my community's Early Intervention program, which evaluated him and found that he had significant delays in several areas, including social-communication and motor skills. We began a weekly home-based program to address developmental problems including gross motor delays, extreme anxiety, sensory difficulties, disordered sleep, delayed speech, poor eye contact, and selective hearing.
At one point, Darwin's delays were so significant that I made myself come to terms with the possibility that he may grow up to be nonverbal-- the "bad" kind of autism that most parents fear.
Darwin's progress was by no means immediate. Even with Early Intervention, he did not walk until seventeen months and his sleep disturbances were so severe that, as a single mother, I was losing my mind. His neurologist suggested that I keep a tally chart to see how many times per night he was awakening, and I was disturbed to wake up and see fifteen to twenty tally marks every night. Several times, I fell asleep at stop-signs and red lights while driving his older sister to school. He would not respond to his name. He wouldn't speak to me. He wouldn't make eye contact.
At around a year and a half, it was pretty undeniable that Darwin was on the spectrum. His pediatrician, Early Interventionist, neurologist, and developmental pediatrician all agreed that it was unlikely that he was not autistic. Yet, he started to make progress, bit by bit.
In addition to his weekly Early Intervention meetings, where we discussed home-based strategies that would help him, Darwin received occupational therapy to help with his sensory processing difficulties. He also had speech therapy, which helped address early signs of echolalia (compulsive repetition of another person's words) and difficulty with auditory processing.
Every parent has a few moments in their child's development that they savor the most, those precious memories that they return to when they need to remember why it's all worthwhile. First words and first steps are common, but for the parents of special-needs kids, there are unsung milestones that matter just as much. I remember when Darwin finally (and suddenly) started speaking in real sentences. When he responded to his name. When he answered a question with "yes" or "no," instead of repetition. When he waved bye-bye for the first time following his regression. When he heard a washing machine and didn't scream in terror. When he let me buckle him into a car seat without a huge fight.
These memories mean everything to me. And, collectively, they added up to create the wonderful two-year-old that Darwin is today.
In the three weeks since Darwin's second birthday, we've had some amazing developments. He had his annual evaluation with Early Intervention, where we found that he'd gone from having severe delays in several areas, to being extremely advanced in every area tested. His social and communication skills are exceptionally advanced and he's finally hitting gross motor milestones on time.
He speaks in long, complex sentences-- "Mama, if story time is over, would you like to rock in the rocking chair instead?"-- and plays well with his peers. He can run, jump with both feet on the ground, and initiate conversations with his peers. He started preschool last week and is thriving completely. He only wakes up once or twice a night and usually puts himself back to bed. Today, he "tested out" of occupational therapy and speech therapy, since he has no delays and his sensory processing abilities are now essentially typical.
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| Part of the summary sheet from Darwin's last home EI visit. |
I couldn't possibly be more proud.
Given his monumental advances in the last couple of months, Darwin's care team now largely believes that he does not, at this point, have diagnosable autism. He has an evaluation scheduled for this November, after which I'll be able to say with certainty if he is currently autistic... But, at this point, I would be surprised if he meets any of the diagnostic criteria.
There's much about Darwin's story that is bittersweet. The part that hurts me the most is that I know, in my heart, that his sister would have had the same level of progress if I'd been as vigilant about evidence-based treatments, but I was so wrapped up in crunchy culture that I delayed and avoided these treatments when they would have been most effective. While she is happy and wonderful and thriving in her own way, it hurts as a mother to know that I could have helped her sooner but was too arrogant to do so. It hurts to know that her own struggles would have been far easier if I had put her needs ahead of my ideals.
I'm currently 24 weeks pregnant with a precious little boy, my third child. It's amazing to think about how much I have learned and grown as a parent through every step of my children's journeys. In my eight years as a mother, I have become a completely different person because of an ever-evolving struggle to be the parent my kids deserve. After all I've learned through my oldest two, I can't wait to see what my third will be able to teach me.
I don't want to change my kids. I don't believe that autism is a disease to be cured. However, I do want my children to be happy and healthy and to thrive to the best of their abilities. If I was able to "cure" Darwin's delays and sensory-processing difficulties to the point that he fell off the spectrum, I view that as something worth celebrating--
I don't want to change my kids. I don't believe that autism is a disease to be cured. However, I do want my children to be happy and healthy and to thrive to the best of their abilities. If I was able to "cure" Darwin's delays and sensory-processing difficulties to the point that he fell off the spectrum, I view that as something worth celebrating--
and as one more sign that the answers parents need are in science, not in naturalistic idealism.
