Autism: Small Miracles Day By Day

Home

We understand each other like nobody else can. Who else but we understand what it means to live with a child who is still in diapers at the age of six, eight, ten and even older, and even after she is toilet trained, is still having accidents?

Who else but we can know what it's like to be happy that our child is only tearing the newspapers and getting the shredded paper all over the house, because at least he's not breaking the window?

We all know the never-ending pain - the anger, frustration, and even depression we feel, living in the unfair world we do. A world where so much of the public school special ed system is more concerned with their budget, and making their life as easy as possible, than they are about doing what is best for our children. A world where the government services are not nearly enough, and even when we have the budget, we can't find the people to help us.

We live with holes in our walls. Walls without pictures, because the pictures wouldn't last on our walls for a day. Our phone books are filled with autism. All kinds of practitioners whom we have hoped, or continue to hope, can improve our child's functioning, from the conventional to unconventional, and names of friends whom we have met only because we have autistic children, all fill our phone books.

But there is also the joy that only we can know. Some of us will feel this joy when our child makes eye contact with us. Some of us will feel it when we see our child is finally learning to talk. For those of us with children who have been nonverbal for a long time, every word that comes from their mouth will be precious. And some of us will know this joy when our child finally walks to the bathroom to use the toilet without being told by anyone to do so. When our children do something that we were afraid to ever dare hope for, we feel a boundless joy and gratitude that no parent who does not live in our world can ever touch.

I didn't write this book to share my pain and commiserate with other parents of autistic children, nor did I write it to let the rest of the world know what we live with. You will not find much talk of my feelings of pain, frustration, etc., in these pages. That doesn't mean that it has not been there, or that it does not continue to be there. I want you to know that the author of this book understands and has been through it all. I am a parent just like you. Understand that expressing my feelings was just not the purpose of this book.

It is the joy, rather than the pain, that has been the driving force behind this book. After years of struggling and searching, I have found certain ideas that have led to some success for my son. I wanted to share these ideas with other parents of low functioning autistic children, so that they might also experience the joy of hearing words from their nonverbal child, or see an older child finally go to the bathroom independently. Thus, this book has become more of a guidebook than a personal story, although you will find glimpses of our story sprinkled throughout these pages.

When we stop to think of it, there really isn't anything special about this book. So many parents, who have struggled for years to find something to help their child, could easily write a book about the things they have found helpful. It is only that somehow I am finally getting around to writing one. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all compile one big book where we all share our experiences as to what has helped our children? Then we could all benefit from each other's knowledge and experience. But until we all get together to write such a book, here is my humble contribution.

I'm all too aware that not every child will respond equally to the suggestions in this book. Perhaps some may not respond much at all, and some, I believe, will probably succeed far beyond my son.

Until we find the answer to this autism dilemma, I hope the suggestions you find in this book will help bring about some measure of higher functioning for your child.

Love,
Dara

The Beauty of Simplicity

Two good friends, Linda and Susan, are sitting and chatting on a park bench. Both are moms of low functioning autistic boys. Both Linda and Susan's sons are about ten years old. Let us listen to their conversation.

Linda: "I know that Ron has a long way to go, but at least he can dress himself!"

Susan: (Sigh) "I can't quite say the same. Sam just doesn't seem to get it! I've been working on it for years already."

Linda: "Mmm. I wonder why it's so hard for your son?"

Susan: "I don't know. I'm getting really frustrated." Yes, why is it so hard for Sammy to learn to dress himself?

Shhh... come with me. We're going to peek into the classroom of these children. Come to the window and look in.

See that boy over there? The one with the button-down dress shirt? That's Sam. Look at his pants. It's got a zipper in the front and a clasp on top. Psst! Look at those shoes! Yeah... laces. Imagine how hard it is for Sammy to get dressed. He has to figure out which arm to put in which sleeve. And forget the buttons! Susan and Sammy engage in a frustrating routine every morning as Susan tries to teach Sammy to do those buttons. Needless to say, Sammy has trouble with the zipper and clasp on his pants. He doesn't even know how to put on the pants so that the zipper and clasp end up in the front. We won't even talk about the shoelaces!

Why does Susan have Sammy wear such difficult clothing? Because Susan is idealistic and she is fighting for Sammy to be no different than his typical peers. And typical ten year olds are able to do little buttons, clasps, and zippers, and tie their shoes. Isn't that so? Susan will not settle for anything less for her son.

Now let's take a look at Ron. He's the one with the blue sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. His jogging pants have a simple elastic waist. Easy pull up- easy pull down. No buttons. No clasps or snaps. No zippers. Notice how the shirt and pants are one solid color all around. Ron can put his shirt and pants on backwards or forwards and it looks just the same. What about the label? No problem! Linda removes all the labels from her son's clothing. So there really is no front and back. Look at the shoes. Velcro! Linda would've bought slip-ons if Ron didn't have the bad habit of taking his shoes off all the time.