Zachy Before Autism
Zachy After Autism
Zachy During Recovery
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A little after Zachys second birthday, my little boy began to disappear at an alarming rate. He began to grow silent. We didn’t notice exactly when it happened, but eventually, the silence became deafening. His incessant babbling and comments on things happening around and to him stopped, and he no longer laughed.
He stopped playing with his sister. She cried often because she thought he didn’t love her anymore.
The close cuddling and hugs that used to bring him peace and happiness became so uncomfortable that he would fight whoever tried to hold him.
He stopped playing with toys and would only carry things. Weird things that he didn’t play with. He just carried them around and would cry if we tried to take them away. He also stopped playing with his cars. He just lined them up. Perfectly. Not a single car was crooked. And if you tried to take one out of its place, he would scream so loud and for so long that his hair would be wet with sweat.
January 13, 2005…Zachary was diagnosed as moderately retarded with autism. I remember that date because that was the day all my hopes and dreams for my son died. For the next 2 years, I scrambled to keep my boy from disappearing, but I had no hope that his/our life would get much better. We decided to just try to manage what life dealt us
The only way I could see a future for my son was by letting more people know about autism, and hopefully, understand and accept my son. Robert and I refused to hide our boy and his condition. Instead, we willingly talked to anyone who would listen. Even the local paper interviewed us to write about autism and the gratitude we had for the smallest of improvements
Our lives took a drastic turn when my husband suggested I go to an autism conference in Anneheim. I went...full of pessimism, skepticism and doubt. I was angrily resigned to the life we were living now.
Instead of waxing eloquent about how wonderful he was, the guy jumped right into biology, physiology, and bio-chemistry. Pictures of kids with the same distended belly, sickly translucent skin and shadows under their eyes and expressionless faces were shown. Then, pictures of inside their intestines explained what was going on. Red, raw lesions were giving them pain, and because they were voiceless, they curled up, rested their abdomens on pillows, balls, furniture. Just like Zachy.
Then they showed the “after” pictures of the same kids. Pictures of bright eyed, laughing faces with pink healthy cheeks, hugging and playing with other kids, loving their mommies and dancing with their daddies. I stopped writing and just stared at those images. Up there on the big screen, pictures of hope I was told didn’t exist dared me to deny their existence.
Please follow this link to read the rest of Zachys incredible journey to recovery!!!
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