My Son's Recovery from Autism- Without Pseudoscience!

A year ago, when I wrote "My Normal Baby's 12-Month Regression," I made a mental note to come back and update everyone in a year about my son's progress. After a significant developmnental regression, I knew that it was extremely likely that he, like his older sister, would be on the autism spectrum.

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."

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.

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--

and as one more sign that the answers parents need are in science, not in naturalistic idealism.

Justice for Thalia Vida Gardner: Father Arrested

In March of 2015, I came across a series of Facebook posts from the family of a beautiful black-eyed baby girl named Thalia Vida Gardner. Her parents claimed that she had died unexpectedly after a serious adverse reaction to vaccines. They were, via GoFundMe, requesting thousands of dollars to "prove" that her death was a vaccine reaction.

It didn't take me long to find evidence calling those claims into question-- most notably, posts from concerned members of Thalia's family, who pointed out that her diagnosis at her time of death was traumatic brain injury, and that she had opiates in her system.

The entire tragic story is chronicled on the following posts:

Did Vaccines Really Kill Her?
12 Questions About Thalia Vida Gardner's Death
An Open Letter to Karla Gardner
Updates on Thalia Vida Gardner

In the long months that have passed since then, I have not had much of a break from this story. I've been badgered and berated by people asking me why there was no arrest, since many internet users don't seem to understand that an investigation like this can take months or years. Thalia's paternal grandmother has emailed me about once a month, telling me that her son isn't in jail and demanding that I remove screencaps from my blog. Jaci Rizzo-- the grandmother-- has even emailed my friends and relatives demanding that they somehow force me to remove blog posts that speak poorly of her son.

Most painfully, Thalia's story has led to many people personally attacking me and my integrity. Several commenters on previous articles accused me of completely fabricating Thalia's entire story for the purpose of driving traffic to my blog, and a now-widely-circulated "Open Letter to Juniper Russo" claimed that I was being well-paid by pharmaceutical companies to attack a grieving family.

I did none of those things. I have never profited in any way from Thalia's death and have no allegiance to anyone-- or anything-- besides justice. My motive has been, since day one, to see justice served, and to see other innocent children spared painful and horrific deaths.

Until now, I had no answer when people asked me why there was no arrest yet. I am not judge, jury, or law enforcement-- I'm only a concerned citizen who saw vaccines being blamed for what appeared to be a death caused by child abuse. Now, I finally have an answer.

On July 14, 2016, Thalia Vida Gardner's father, Tyler Justin Gardner, was arrested. He was specifically charged with child abuse and neglect with substantial bodily or mental harm-- a felony charge that, in his jurisdiction, carries a sentence of 6-15 years in prison. He is being held on $80,000 bail.

Tyler hasn't been convicted yet and is legally considered innocent until proven guilty. However, if 16 months of thorough investigation revealed child abuse-- rather than a vaccine injury-- I think it's at least safe to say that Thalia's death was not vaccine-related.

I will update readers if and when there is a conviction. In the mean time, I ask that followers stop harassing me and my family, and that everyone keep those who loved Thalia in their thoughts and prayers.

My "Normal" Baby's 12-Month Regression

In my former life as an autism-fearing, anti-vax mom, stories like my son's kept me awake at night. I'd pore over all the tales on the internet: "I took my normal baby for his 12-month shots, and the next day, he was autistic."

My son did seem to be typical, by all accounts. Even though my mommy-instinct told me something was different, Early Intervention reassured me after two screenings-- one at six weeks and one at six months-- that he was doing fine. His pediatrician echoed their statements. The consensus was: this is a completely normal baby. Maybe a little wobbly, and on the late side when it comes to crawling and sitting up, but he's fine.

Well, then my "completely normal baby" started nearing his first birthday. He was cruising, standing unsupported, responding to his name, saying a few words. Then, bam: two weeks ago, he stopped being able to stand alone. He stopped cruising. He stopped taking steps. He no longer waved consistently when someone told him to say bye-bye. He stopped answering to his name. He traded his vocabulary of five words for a single one: "Hand," which he started repeating over and over again ad nauseum while looking at a hand.

If this had happened just two weeks later than it did, it would have coincided perfectly with his twelve-month vaccines, which included MMR. But, because it happened before his twelve-month shots, I know with certainty that his developmental regression had nothing to do with his vaccines.

You don't have to take my word for it, though: every major medical establishment in the world agrees that here is no link between immunization and autism. Studies involving a total of millions of children have concluded that vaccines don't increase the risk of autism or worsen autism symptoms in children who are predisposed. Vaccines do, however, coincide with the times when the first signs of autism show up: 12 months, 18 months, and two years. It's easy to see how the timing of these regressions and symptoms can look suspicious.

But, just as I know with certainty that my oldest child was autistic before she was vaccinated-- by the mere fact that she was diagnosed with developmental delays before she'd had a single shot-- I know with certainty that my son's developmental regression occurred before he was vaccinated. It further confirms what I've known for a long time, which is that I gave my kids autism through wonderfully unique genes, not through anything in their environment.

My son will be meeting with Early Intervention tomorrow, and once again, I'm struck by how profoundly different my feelings and experiences have been between when my oldest was diagnosed with developmental delays and when my youngest was. As I've written about before, I was naive and impressionable and full of self-blame seven years ago, but now? This is a walk in the park. Where once I felt fear and sadness and apprehension, I now feel nothing but overwhelming love for my children. I'm excited to watch them grow and thrive and become their own beautiful selves.

I can't wait to see what comes next. Parents with neurotypical kids have a fairly good idea of what they're getting. I have the privilege of discovering my kids anew every single day. Their passions become my passions. Their triumphs become my triumphs. I can't wait to guide my second child through whatever help he needs and then celebrate his successes, however small or large. I can't wait to learn what his strengths are and to mold my parenting to fit the ever-changing needs of a child who marches to the beat of a different drummer. I am genuinely excited to be taking this journey with my children, their tiny hands in mine.

Autism acceptance and vaccine advocacy became my life's work after a string of surprising coincidences, so I believe that it's a wonderful act of fate that I was once again blessed with a child who, by his mere existence, is showing the world about the necessity of evidence-based health care and the reality of autism as a heritable genetic condition. It will be a while before I find out for sure if my son really does have autism. It's possible, though not likely, that he will be neurotypical and just had a temporary developmental glitch. But, if he is autistic, I know for sure that it was encoded in his DNA, not a vaccine. I know for sure that he is not broken, but a beautiful and perfect human being made exactly the way nature intended him.

I Went From Screen-Free to Handing My Baby an iPhone

When my oldest child was born in 2008, the recommendations were clear: screen time of any sort was absolutely off-limits. This wasn't just something that I'd heard within the "crunchy" community. The American Academy of Pediatrics and the Zero to Three, the two primary science-based authorities on parenthood, both said that "screen" entertainment, such as TV and computers, was not at all acceptable for babies and toddlers.

I took their word for it, at absolute face value. I felt like there was something emanating from the screen that could somehow harm my baby. When I wrote late at night in the rocking chair, I would turn her head away or cover her eyes. In the waiting room at the pediatrician's office, I would constantly turn her head toward me, repeating, "No screen time," much to the confusion of the parents around me.

This went on for three years, at which point she started getting screen time with strict limits.

I had it in my head that a child who sees screens during key phases of development won't correctly learn how reality works. The way I saw it, basic concepts like object permanence (that an object continues to exist when out of view), size, movement, and communication fall apart on screen. Babies and toddlers are still learning what faces and objects are, and what they can do. On a screen, all bets are off: anything is real and nothing is real. The expert recommendation of zero screen time seemed to fit my ideology.

But in the six years between my daughter's birth and my son's birth, something happened: the smart phone explosion. In just six years, screens went from being specific objects with specific functions, to magical machines that did everything: a phone, music-player, computer, camera, camcorder, teleconference caller, and video game console all in one. This changed so many things.

It started with music. My son loves his lullabies and there were times that I would pick out his favorite and put it in his car seat with him while he fell asleep. No harm done, right? Then I found a number of apps that were, really, identical to the baby toys I might have found in the store: push the button and it makes a sound. He delighted in "helping" me take pictures and examining them afterward. And, most importantly, when I had to be separated from him for medical reasons, it meant that he was still able to see my face and know who I was.

I felt a twinge of guilt about it, but I couldn't see any evidence of the harm when I would entertain him with a vocabulary-building or lullaby-playing baby app while I stole a five-minute shower. I couldn't even see evidence of harm when I let him play with it for the entirety of a long car ride. After all-- developmentally speaking-- how different is an educational app from a boardbook or toy?

I was relieved but not surprised when Zero to Three caught up to the modern world and issued recommendations that were in agreement with my experience as a mom: instead of "no screen time," they now recommend smarter screen time. Of course, they still don't recommend using screens as a go-to babysitter or pacifier, but they say that introducing screens early in life can be just fine as long as the child is getting plenty of age-appropriate content and parent interaction-- and as long as screen time is balanced out with time spent playing with real, three-dimensional toys.

I don't want my son to become a smartphone zombie or to value screens over the real world. But I do think that in today's world, screens are so ubiquitous and so useful that it's unreasonable to forgo them all the way through toddlerhood. Today, I'm a fan of smart screen time instead of no screen time.