Our Story Begins

Some moments in time are forever in our memories.  My sweet one year old scooting ever so slightly backwards, leading with his rear-end, eagerly striving to land smack in the middle of my lap.  I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, ready to read him a book, but he isn’t quite ready.  The wiggles continue every which way until the moment when he is perfectly comfortable, perfectly content.  I can still smell his freshly washed hair, the feel of his soft snuggles, the gentle pressure on my chest as he rests comfortably listening to his favorite story book.  I never thought that over the next few months, these routine, calm, simple moments would start to disappear.

Our son, Ross, was born in 1985.  By 18 months, the few words he spoke soon disappeared and had little or no eye contact.  Over a few months, we would find him walking in circles, staring at shiny objects, lining toys across the floor, pouring water from cup to cup.  In addition to the all the repetitive behavior, he wasn’t sleeping.  He had violent tantrums, screaming, kicking, throwing himself on the floor, banging his head.  What is happening to our son?

After confirming with a specialist that his hearing was normal, we were referred to a diagnostic clinic in Central Illinois.  After one full day of testing and a month of waiting, we received the diagnosis of autism.  The year was 1987 and we had never heard this word.  We were sent home with a few suggestions for our home, enroll him in early education as soon as possible, and start looking for an institution.  That was it.

All the way home Greg reassured me that everything was going to be fine and not worry too much.  After getting us settled at home, Greg headed to the library to do some research.  The look on his face as he came in the house is forever etched in my mind.  He had a lump in his throat, but managed to say, “Marla, we can’t fix this one.”  I just stood there.

Perhaps the experts were wrong.  Is this all there is for Ross’ future?

The library was our best source of information and I read anything I could find.  We researched, wrote letters, and made phone calls.  There were special diets, allergy shots, supplements, multiple medical tests.  Speech therapy, physical therapy, auditory training, research groups. We left no stone unturned.  Our ultimate goal to help Ross thrive and have the highest quality of life possible.

Greg and I refused to believe that our son was destined to be placed in an institution.  We never wanted to completely rely on test scores that were primarily based on a skill that he did not possess; communication.  We recognized an intelligence in him and fought for programs to address his special needs.  Having no classrooms for our son and two other students, we worked together with our school system to help develop a classroom for those with communication disorders.  Complete with defined curriculum and training for the teachers and additional staff.  This was new to everyone, teachers included.

Throughout many struggles, hard work, determination, laughter and tears, we stand here today with a 37-year-old funny, smart, witty, compulsive, focused, precocious, sneaky son. He loves music by Andy Williams and Al Martino, Golden Books, calendars, pens, pencils, cartoons, searching the internet, super hero figures, shopping, going to the movies and is always eager to go on a vacation.

Yes, our son has autism and it isn’t easy.  We continue to have good and bad moments.  Moments that bring us joy and many times tears.  However, there is not a day that goes by, that I don’t count my blessings for the outstanding young man we have been given.  I only hope that we can continue to be the parents he needs us to be.