So your child was diagnosed with autism: Tips for navigating the internet

Oh, hello! For those of you who don't know me, I'm Jill, and my kid, who I call Child 1, is autistic. He's 12 now and he received his first diagnosis in May 2004. I've also been on the internet since 1993, ever since America Online spent all their time mailing out those floppy disks that everybody ended up using as coasters. I thought I would take my years of combined experiences and write up a post giving my advice to the parent whose child is recently diagnosed with autism. Because, you see, it's ugly out there. It's messy and it's no fun and if you're new to this you could very easily be freaked out enough to just grab your kid and run and hide; that's probably what I would have done. So let me give you some advice that you might be able to use along the way.

1. Don't take my advice.

Wait. What? Don't take… huh???

See, you have to think about The Internet like a great big beach, full of individual grains of sand, and your brain like the head of a pin. Each of those grains is one person's opinion, or one person's experience, or one organization's mission statement, or one Facebook page's viewpoint, and your job now is to wade through that beach and find the 10 or so grains of sand that will fit on the head of your pin. The only way to find those 10 grains is to dip yourself into the entire beach and go through all the individual grains; taking what you need, leaving behind what you don't. Many of them will not work for you, many of them will cause you to run, screaming for the hills, but some of them will be the ones that speak to you and you need to find those. So don't just take one person's advice and leave it at that, you have to read all the advice, and even if you end up back at that first place that you started, at least you got there on your own, fully armed with knowledge. So the next few months your job is to get in front of your computer and start reading, and read it all, even the most batshit, explosively crazy stuff: you've got to read it all. Take notes, remember the places you like, remember the places you don't like, and then come out the other side with your 10 grains of sand.

2. There is no one "right" way to think

There is no instruction manual here. Every person, every child, is an individual with individual needs and experiences. What works for one person might be the most horrible thing for another, but you won't know what works for you until you figure out what all your options are. ABA was awesome for my kid, but that doesn't automatically mean that ABA is awesome in general: it just means that it was awesome for my kid. Anybody who makes blanket statements about what is good and what is bad for a child with autism, when these issues are not black and white, is not somebody who I believe to be helpful.

Additionally, there are a lot of people out there who may tell you that what you think is wrong, or how you feel is hurtful, and they feel justified in telling you this because they know more about this stuff than you do, and it's probably true that they do know more than you do: about autism. But they don't know you, they don't know your experience and more importantly, they don't know your kid. Remember this as you wade through that beach, because it's the most important thing you can hold in your mind right now: You are an expert on your own child. Nobody else knows your kid like you do, particularly an internet person who has never met them. Nobody else can claim that they know what is best for your child, only you can claim that.

Another thing to remember is not to be swayed by what seems like popularity. Just because somebody has written some books, has been doing this since May 2004, has fancy letters after their name, or is a Facebook page has a lot of likes, it doesn't mean that they're any better than anybody else. First of all, Facebook likes can be easily bought, so a page with high numbers isn't an automatic brand of respectability. Respect has to be earned, it can't just be bought, so if somebody is telling you what to think or feel, rather than helping you to learn, their numbes are meaningless. That's not helping, that's preaching, and you don't need that right now.

3. Trust your instincts

As you sludge through the sand, don't be afraid to stop and ask questions, because you need to meet people right now. There are lots of good people and good places out there who have the information and experience that can help support you and inform your opinion, and these are the people who are going to help get you through this. And there are also lots of bad ones. For example, if you find yourself in the middle of an argument that doesn't seem to have anything to do with you, or people are calling you names for no reason that you can tell, or if you're suddenly having to defend your parenting, or are saying things like "but, that's not even what I said…" RUN. RUN LIKE THE WIND. You've got an entire beach you need to get through, you don't have time to spend defending yourself against things you never even said, or having to repeatedly insist that you actually do love your child, because what the hell kind of crazy talk is that?? Know that everybody brings their own baggage to the table, and because their baggage has nothing to do with you, you have no obligation to spend your time fighting about it. It doesn't matter the horrible thing somebody says to you: it's not about you, it's about them. If it feels wrong to you, then it is wrong for you, so just cut your losses, delete your comments, and get the hell out. The next place you land will be better.

4. Stay away from reddit

Just trust me on this one. Reddit is not for you.

5. Don't let one bad apple ruin an entire viewpoint

Let's say you ask a question about possibly spacing out vaccines and suddenly you've got this person calling you a murderer and blaming you for all those kids that have died of pertussis in California. First of all, see #3 and get the hell out, but more importantly, don't let that one crazy person alter your viewpoint about vaccines in general. That person doesn't represent the group, they only represent themselves. It doesn't mean that all people who support vaccines are nutjob crazies, it just means that one person is. You can ask your question somewhere else and probably get a reasonable, informative answer, and since you need answers, discounting an entire viewpoint because of just one person might leave you with an uninformed opinion. Try again, it will be better somewhere else.

6. Don't panic. But if you do panic, that's okay, too

This is a lot, I know. And you're possibly feeling overwhelmed. You just got this diagnosis for your kid and now you have to wade through a whole stupid beach just to find 10 stupid grains of sand? Are you kidding me?? Shut up, Jill! Yeah, I totally get that. This sucks. But I've been there, I got out the other end, and you'll get there, too. You will make your way; you will find your tribe. This will not break you, I promise. You love your child, that much is 100% fact, and it is that love that will help guide your way. Hold onto that and let it be your flashlight as you sift through the sand.

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You'll notice I haven't provided any links to places I think are good to read because I didn't want to advocate for any particular opinion here, but I'm happy to answer questions if anybody has them, so feel free to contact me at jillsmo@gmail.com or on Facebook here. I love hearing from you guys and I especially like providing guidance, so don't be afraid to contact me. I don't bite! Despite what you may have heard. 

But don't take my word for it, find out for yourself. What the hell do I know, anyway? I'm just one grain of sand. One itchy, sarcastic grain of sand.

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All Moms Do That

HAHAHA! Do you see how clever I am? It's a play on my series All Kids Do That! A series I wrote because people always say "Oh, all kids do that" when you talk about your autistic kid's quirks and things! I'm so funny!! And really really tired, it's been an incredibly long day, this, now the night before school starts, but I wanted to get this out tonight otherwise I probably never would.

Tomorrow is Child 1's first day of middle school, you see. I've, perhaps, mentioned at some point that this event makes me slightly apprehensive slightly. Just slightly. Only a little. See, I was bullied in middle school and it's always been this representation in my mind of a part of childhood where absolute fucking torture happens. So, I would naturally be ever so slightly concerned about the welfare and wellbeing of my unbelievably sweet and meek autistic child, who possesses absolutely no social ability whatsoever, who will bust out with the most random recitation of whichever particular Go Animate video happens to be on his mind at the moment in response to a question, and who, by nature of his diagnosis, has a 63% chance of being bullied while he's there.

So, I'm just a tad bit uneasy about the whole thing. Just slightly skittish. A bit peckish. That might mean I'm hungry. Okay, that too, then.

Yeah. So, today we go there and we take our tour, we met with our new case manager, we walked around the classrooms, we met the teachers, it was a lovely visit. While there, I was chatting with one of his new teachers, and I mentioned my oh so casual not a big deal nervousness about the whole thing, and her response? "All parents are nervous about tomorrow."

Yeah. All parents are nervous about tomorrow. All parents are probably feeling that slight bit of apprehension as their child embarks on this new journey. All parents are feeling a little uneasy about a new school, about their child making new friends, about their child doing well academically. All parents are nervous.

Are all parents hyperventilating? Do all parents have to pull over while driving their car because of the panic attack they're having about middle school? Have all parents been just on the verge of bursting into hysterical tears this past week?

Are all parents sure they're sending their child off to a cesspool of evil? Do all parents envision their kid getting laughed at, and pushed, and called names, because he is so, so, SO obviously different? Have all parents been unable to sleep for weeks because they lie awake imagining the kind of heartbreak and pain and hurt and fear their sweet boy might experience at the hands of other kids?

Are all parents doing that? I'm willing to bet good money that not all parents are doing that. I'm willing to bet that the nervousness they feel is absolutely fucking nothing in comparison to what I'm feeling. I know, you're going to tell me it's going to be okay. You're going to tell me how freaked out you were on the night before you lead your child off to the slaughter, and look! No problem. You're overreacting. You worry too much. He'll be fine.

He'll be fine.

Actually he probably will be fine, but telling me all of that is perhaps the least helpful thing you could say to a person at a time like this. I'm sure he'll be fine. But I'M not fine. And don't tell me that I should be, or that I'm like everybody else who is also slightly apprehensive, because I'm nothing like them. This is nothing like that.

It's cool, though, because he'll be fine. And all parents are nervous.

I also want to take a moment to link to the most amazing blog post I've ever read, written by my friend Bec at Snagglebox, about the worry we parents have about our special needs children. It's not about middle school, it's about adulthood, but her kid is only a few years older than mine is, and MAN does she nail it with this post.

But all moms worry.

Right?

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Was it the tuna?

I was thinking about this Saturday Night Live skit I saw in the late 1980s: John Larroquette is dead and in heaven, and he meets the Angel Gabriel, played by Dana Carvey (or somebody, I didn't google the details so I could be getting many of them wrong) and he gets this chance to ask all the questions to things that he would never have known the answers to otherwise. Questions like "Is professional wrestling real?" (it is) and "which is the one true religion?" (it was something crazy like snake handling or Assembly of God [CS: *wink*]), and I was thinking about all the things in the world that we don't actually know. We may think we know the truth, with our research and our strong opinions, but the reality is that for some things, we really and truly just don't know. And we never will (as long we we're alive, anyway).

When I was pregnant with Child 1 I ate about 4-5 cans of tuna a week; I thought it was good for us, with that healthy fish oil and Omega whatevers. He was about 2 months old when the media first reported on the high levels of mercury in fish and the effects that could have on a developing fetus. I remember saying to somebody that since the kid wasn't born with 3 eyes I guess there were no problems there! Later on, after he was diagnosed, we read about the symptoms of mercury poisoning and how they can mimic autism. Was there a connection? Like I said earlier, I can research my ass off, and I can have an opinion on the subject, but the truth is that I will likely never actually know the truth; the real truth, that only Dana Carvey could tell me after I die.

That would be my question, though, if I end up like John Larroquette, getting all my questions answered (although probably not by the Angel Gabriel, because Supernatural fans will know that not only is that dude a total dick, he's also totally dead): Was it the tuna? If I hadn't eaten all that tuna when I was pregnant, would Child 1 not have been autistic?

Now, don't misunderstand me here, I'm 8+ years past diagnosis and I've moved well beyond blaming myself. They didn't give you those warnings not to eat fish when you were pregnant in 2001, I didn't know. Nobody knew, except probably the tuna companies, and so nobody was able to tell me. If there is a connection, I know that it wasn't my fault. And I'm not asking for articles or studies that prove or disprove the theory: trust me when I tell you I've already seen it. I'm just saying that before my Reaper leads me off to the neverending Dead show in the sky (Shoreline, August 1991) it would be nice to be able to actually get an answer to the question. SNL style.

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Mail a letter, save a family

Please visit this post by my friend Kelli from The Status Woe to help a fellow autism mom.

Thank you!

Here is some background information

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I am Different Mom

Today was Child 1's last day of 5th grade; next year he moves on to Middle School. For the past few weeks I have been thinking of nothing but the fact of his getting older. How far he has come since we started Elementary school. How much (little) he spoke when he first walked through that door. How much help he needed just to navigate the day inside the classroom. Today he makes his way effortlessly on his own. He knows that school like the back of his hand; the places to hide when his aides are making him "work too much." The hallways he runs up and down when he gets his regular sensory breaks. The bathrooms he goes inside to escape from the crowds.

I remember that first Back to School Night of Kindergarten, sitting in those tiny little chairs with the other parents as they talked about what they wanted for their child who would also make their way through this experience of Elementary School. That one Other Mom, the one who made an impact on me. She talked about how she wanted her daughter to grow as a person, to learn, not only academic subjects, but Life Subjects, as well. She wanted her daughter to experience the world and learn that not all people were like her. To embrace differences, because that's what life was about. I remember, being so scared of Elementary School, and thinking how amazing it was that Other Parents actually thought about differences. What an amazing thing, for my child, that Other Kids might be ready to embrace his differentness.

The years went on, and Other Mom and I worked on projects for the PTA and became friends. I like her; a lot, actually. She's a great person and a great example of the kind of parent that lives in this town with me. She's nice, she cares about her community, she believes in giving back and she knows it's not all just about her and her family. She's so cool I could show her this post and she would be okay with it. And not a day goes by that I don't feel lucky and so grateful that I live in the town where I live; where people are open and accepting of differences, and they teach their kids the same. I know this city is unique in that respect, and I would never leave here or take my kids away from such an open, accepting, and diverse experience. The people here genuinely care, and I'm grateful for that. I am.

But still, we know these things; when we talk. We all know... that I am Different Mom. My kid is Different Kid. He isn't like the other kids, and when we talk to each other we are very much aware that my experience, and my child's experience, isn't the same as theirs.  It doesn't make us outcasts, but we're all still thinking about it. I pick a Middle School with different priorities; my kid doesn't have friends he wants to stay with through the transition. My kid will need support to make it through the day. To find the new bathroom to hide in when he wants to escape from the crowds. To navigate a new hallway when his aides are making him work too hard. These things are hanging heavy in the air when we casually discuss where we're going next. We all know that I am Different Mom. It's okay, of course it is. But it's still there. Hanging heavy.

And yesterday? Yesterday it was her kid on the stage at that promotion ceremony, introducing herself as Student Counsel President. And it's her kid, this evening, who goes to the parties to celebrate this occasion of graduating. And it's my kid who stays home, because he has no interest in sharing this event with his peers. And it's my kid who doesn't even want to talk about what he thinks about the whole thing. And we know, as we talk, that these are our differences. And we know, as we talk, that these things will always make us different.

And tonight... I don't want to be Different Mom; I want to be like them. I want to have the kid who celebrates with his friends that he's done with Elementary school. I want to have the kid who wants to stay up all night. Tonight I mourn my differentness, the one I wasn't born into but had thrust upon me by my child who was. Tonight... I don't want to be Different Mom.

Tomorrow will be different, of course. Tomorrow the memory of promotion ceremonies and graduation class parties will fade, and I will get back to thinking about summer and planning our transition to the next part of our lives, but tonight? Tonight I want to be like them. Tonight I want to be Other Mom, too.

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Independence and worry

I'm a worrier; I worry. This is no secret to anybody who knows me well. I worry about my kids, I worry about my family, I worry about my friends. I lie awake nights thinking about all the people I love and the various issues they have and sometimes I wish so much that there was something I could do for them that I can't sleep. But all I can do, most of the time, is tell them that I love them and hope that they'll be okay.

With my kids, of course, it's a different story. I don't or can't just lie awake and hope for the best, I'm in charge of the things I worry about. Okay, there's nothing I can do about earthquakes, but for the most part I'm in charge. It's my responsibility to make sure they're prepared for what faces them and a lot of the time what I worry about is that I'm not doing a good enough job at that.

Lately I've been thinking (worrying) a lot about independence, in particular with Child 1. This is, of course, something all parents worry about for their children but for an autistic child the worry is much different. He's 11 now and ever since the Resource Specialist said the words "diploma track" at our last IEP meeting my mind has been consumed with "what happens when he gets older?" We're still struggling with basic hygiene right now, can I possibly imagine that one day he might live independently of me?

It has always been my instinct as a parent to not try to "micromanage" my kids' lives. I like to give them plenty of freedom to make their own decisions and find out for themselves what kind of people they are. Child 2 doesn't like sports, even though every single one of his friends does, so I'm not going to make him do sports. If he doesn't want to he doesn't have to; he'll find his own activities that he likes. But it's different with my autistic kid because his preferences are so limited. He doesn't just not want to do sports, he doesn't ever want to leave the house unless it's to go watch BART trains. He has no interest in making friends, he has no interest in any kind of group activity, he doesn't even have any interest in learning personal hygiene.

So, okay... so far I've been going along respecting his wishes because I'm not going to force him to do something he doesn't want to do, but now... the worry. What if I'm making a mistake? What if, by not insisting he, at least temporarily, leave his comfort zone to try new things, he'll never want to leave the house for any reason except to watch BART trains? Will he be an adult, living in my house and never leaving?

I read my friends' blog posts and Facebook updates, and I see all the therapies and social groups and activities that everybody's kids are doing, and my kid is doing none of those. And that's because he doesn't want to, but should that choice necessarily be his? When he was 3 he certainly didn't want to participate in our ABA-based home program, but he was 3 and nonverbal and I didn't give him a choice. As a result I'm 100% convinced that if it hadn't been for that program he wouldn't be the exceptionally smart, verbal, sweet child that he is today. He wouldn't have been able to make all of this progress without that program, the one I "forced" him into against his will.

So maybe now I'm just making a mistake. Maybe I need to insist that he participate more in the world, in order to prepare him for his future as an adult? Maybe by giving him too much personal freedom I'm actually doing him wrong??

I know it's so easy to say "you're doing the best you can and he'll find his own way" but... will he??? Nobody can predict the future, all we can do is prepare for it as best we can. I'm worried I'm not doing enough to prepare him for it.

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Wandering backlash: One mom's response [Guest post]

Today I am more than thrilled to be hosting a guest post written by my friend Jo Ashline. I thought about giving her a lengthy introduction but I think her gorgeous words speak for themselves.

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Andrew loves to explore the world. And we are never far behind.

We try.

We try so hard.

We are honest, open, willing to divulge our deepest regrets, our highest hopes, our most intimate fears. We do so for many reasons; the most important, the most worthwhile is to connect with parents and families like ours and educate those who will – at some point in their lives – encounter one of our loved ones on the spectrum.

We compromise. We apologize. We make every attempt to consider everyone’s perspective, even when it’s not humanly possible to please everyone. Still, we give it the old college try because God forbid we write about the one thing we know best: Our Lives.

Yet, no matter what we say, no matter what we write about, there’s always someone waiting in the wings, rubbing their hands together in earnest, ready to point out our faults, prey on our weaknesses, discount our personal experiences and twist our truths into something ugly and false and demeaning.

I, for one, have had enough.

Last week autism parent bloggers across the nation banded together to honor three young children with autism who tragically lost their lives to wandering. Each one had, in a matter of seconds, managed to escape their safety nets; all three were later found lifeless in a body of water.

Their families, already facing the worst kind of devastation, became the focus of unimaginable condescension, scrutiny, and judgment from individuals who had no idea what they were talking about.

So we turned on our laptops, logged onto our respective blogs, and began chronicling our own experiences with elopement, wandering and bolting in an effort to educate others and empower the victims’ loved ones as they faced their incredible loss.

And then, once again, it happened.

Comments were left that questioned our motivation; assumptions were made about abuse; fingers pointed at imprisonment; voices lashed out, accusing us of mistreating, misunderstanding, mismanaging our children.

We were ridiculed, insulted, ostracized, targeted, and told, in no uncertain terms, that we were irrevocably damaging our offspring.

And yet, no matter what anyone out there has said, or continues to say, the truth remains. It’s a funny thing about truth; it doesn’t go away, just because someone wants it to.

My truth is as follows:

Your stinging words, your crucifying comments, your unfounded accusations of abuse have not stopped my child from eloping or wandering or bolting this week; not once.

Your judgments and finger-pointing and uninformed assumptions have not made my vulnerable, innocent, little boy safe this week; not once.

Your naïve suggestion to change the way we think about wandering, to allow it to naturally take its course and watch it resolve before our very eyes has not kept my son from attempting to run into a busy street filled with cars this week; not once.

Your derogatory deviations from the reality we live each and every day have not halted my son in his tracks this week, while he made his way towards a swimming pool that would swallow him whole if only given the chance; not once.

You are not the hands that guide him away from danger; you are not the arms that grab him before tragedy strikes; you are not the heart that pounds when you realize how just how close he came to a tragic ending.

You do not live this life of mine.

You do not hold your breath as you guide my child through weaving crowds, wide open spaces and treacherous terrain known as the outside world, exhaling only when he is back in the safe confines of a home designed to deter Fate and Odds from thinking they can get one over on you.

You do not lie awake at night, waiting for fitful sleep to arrive and grace you with the very nightmares you work so hard to prevent when you are awake.

You are not the one who knows that safety is just an illusion, designed to make you think you can finally let your guard down, only to be faced with the certainty that somewhere, someday the bubble you’ve carefully constructed will burst and you will spend the rest of your life haunted that you didn’t do enough.

You do not live this life of mine.

There will be no compromising; no apologies. There will be no excuses, no desperate attempts to meet anyone halfway. There will be no explanations that I’m doing a good job, no efforts to convince you that I love my child.

Unless you are living my life today, unless you are the literal difference between my son’s life and his untimely death due to wandering, then you and I have nothing more to discuss.

I am not sorry for the steps I take to keep my son safe; I do not regret the locks, the stroller, the wheelchair, the gates, the alarms, the snug embraces.

I do these things so that I don’t have to one day face the ultimate regret: that I didn’t do enough.

So this is me, elbow deep in my truth. Nothing you can say about me, or write in the comment section of this or any other blog post I write will change that.

You do not live this life of mine.

So let it be known: I do not care what you think about the way I raise, protect, and love my wandering son with autism.

Now you’ll have to excuse me.

I have a child to catch.

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Sick of it

I'm sick of judgment.

I'm sick of the high horse.

I'm sick of high and mighty; of "I'm better than you."

I'm sick of the double standard.

I'm sick of being mocked, for who I am and not because of anything I've done or said.

I'm sick of bullshit, non sequitur semantics arguments.

I'm sick of being made the bully, while others make themselves the victim.

I'm sick of the rallying cry, "come see what this person has said about us!!" while the sycophantic crowds follow.

I'm sick of being the target of somebody else's projections.

But mostly I'm sick of the ignorance. You don't know me. You've never met me. You've never even spoken to me. You've never even tried to communicate with me, and yet you think you know me? You think you know what I think? You don't know shit. You know nothing.

You want me to be your "ally" ? How about YOU FIRST?

I've tried to be reasonable. I've tried to see all sides. But all human beings have their limits and you have pushed me to mine.

I'm sick of being made the enemy. I'm sick of being made the fool; by angry people who do nothing but play out their mommy issues with anybody they encounter who has the title of "parent."

That's not "advocacy." That's fucking irrational insanity.

You don't speak for my child.

You're not a fucking civil rights movement.

You speak for yourself. That's all you do.

And I'm sick of your shit.

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Also? I'm turning off comments, because I'm no longer interested in your opinion.

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In Memoriam

Graphic by fourseastars. Used with permission.

Drew Howell. Owen Black. Mikaela Lynch.

In the past week three children with autism have gone missing, later to be found dead in a body of water. Mikaela Lynch was 9 years old and was missing for 5 days before her body was found in the creek behind her house. Owen Black was 8 and slipped out of the vacation house he was staying in with his parents while they slept. Drew Howell was 2. They were all autistic and nonverbal.

Three children now dead. These are unimaginable tragedies; I can't even comprehend it, it's so huge. I can't put myself into the heads of the families who are now so devastated by these losses, it's too big for me to understand. Even saying that I'm sorry for their losses just seems banal. I can't imagine their pain. I can't. 

When things like this happen, it's human nature to want to have a reason, an explanation. It's natural to ask questions like "how could this happen?" and I'll try to explain what I can: Professionals call it "elopement behavior," or "wandering," and studies have shown "49% of children (with autism) have wandered away from safe environments, such as homes, schools, public places, day camps, and other non-home settings." This means that they will just take off running at the drop of a hat. It means they will be there one second and gone the next. It means their parents have to keep a hand on them at all times; at all times: 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, because they will be gone in an instant. So many families I know have special deadbolts or alarms on their doors, just so they can sleep at night without worrying that their child will leave the house while they sleep. 

In addition, autistic children who "wander" have no understanding of their personal safety, and they are very commonly attracted to water. Sadly, The National Autism Association reports that "in 2009, 2010, and 2011, accidental drowning accounted for 91% total U.S. deaths reported in children with an ASD ages 14 and younger subsequent to wandering/elopement."

I know how much one might want to say "their parents should have been watching them," because, like I said, it's natural to want to find an explanation, but it's just not that easy. You can't keep your eyes open and on your child 24/7, you just can't. What happens if you're in a shopping center and you drop your wallet? You have to bend down and pick it up and then you look up and she's gone. Yes, it happens that fast. And I can promise you that this was the biggest fear of the parents of these children. I would bet all the money in the world that they would lie awake at night in a panic, worrying about their child running from them and having something horrible happen. This is, literally, these families' worst nightmares.

These events are unspeakable tragedies but they are not the fault of the parents. These children's parents are not to blame for this. Nobody is to blame for this, it's just a horrible, unimaginable thing that has happened. That said, there are still some people out there who will use these tragedies to advance their own careers and personal agendas, in particular one pink haired hack who "writes" for the Examiner (I put the word "writes" in quotes because having the ability to bang your fist into a keyboard doesn't automatically make you a writer.) These people will try to take advantage of the pain these parents are feeling and make some money by having you click on the link to their inflammatory "articles." These people not just willfully violate journalistic ethics and should be fired from whatever writing jobs they have but are also the scum of the earth.

If you actually want to help, don't point fingers and don't place blame. Educate yourself about autism and wandering. Join in efforts to help support families who lie awake at night worrying. But most importantly, don't judge. Don't say "those parents should have done a better job," because until it's YOU lying in your bed at night in a panic, you have no idea what it's really like. And the truth is that Child 1 is not a runner and this isn't part of my experience with autism. I lie awake nights worrying about different things and therefore I, too, have no idea what it's really like. But that doesn't stop me from being educated on the issue, and education is what prevents judgment. If you don't understand this pain, that's okay, you don't have to. Just don't judge what you don't know.

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A dog analogy

Child 1 is afraid of dogs; irrationally and completely scared shitless. It doesn't matter the size or the temperament, he will walk the widest arc around even the sweetest, calmest dog in the world who is sleeping on the sidewalk, nevermind the happy-go-lucky-I-want-to-lick-your-face ones. He runs in abject terror when he encounters them, even as their owner explains "don't worry, she's friendly!" That doesn't help, friendly is even worse.  I've learned, over the years, to put my body in between a dog and him whenever we encounter one; if he's hiding behind me he won't feel the need to run into the street to get away from it (and he's done that).

Earlier today I was walking home from the store (by myself!! OMG!!) when I passed a house that had a dog inside a fenced in yard. This was one of those little yippy guys, with LOTS of energy, and he had very very strong opinions about the fact that I was walking past his yard. The yard, and the fence, was rather long, and as I walked by, he jumped and jumped, and ran back and forth, and barked his opinion at me quite forcefully. It was actually a little unnerving, even to me, but this guy was so small that even his highest possible jump only got him halfway up the height of the fence; there was no way he was getting out.

And I thought, as I walked by, that I was glad Child 1 wasn't with me, because even though he would have been physically safe, he would have been emotionally very upset by the experience. And then I thought that there were probably some people in the world who would complain to the person who lived there that they had an autistic child who was terrified of dogs and the owner needed to keep their dog inside so as to not upset their child.

Are there really people like that? I don't actually know (who knows, here in Berkeley. Probably). Regardless of how unreasonable this request is, however, it seems to be to be a good analogy for a manner of child raising in which I do not subscribe: that the world needs to bend for my child because he is autistic. That I have the right to place unreasonable demands on other people, and that I should expect other people to acquiesce to my unreasonable demands, because my child is autistic.

I don't think that is my role as a parent of an autistic child or even an NT child. I think my job is to prepare them for the world, the world as it is, not the other way around. If I just happen to have some spare time I can do my best to try to educate people about autism, but that's all I can do. I can't expect other people to change for my son, but I can expect to teach him to prepare for them. The world may not be a completely fair and happy place, but it's my job, as his mother, to make sure he enters the world with the tools and the fortitude in order to deal with it. 

I have no right to ask the dog owner to keep his dog inside, but I do have the right, and the ability, and the presence of mind, to cross to the other side of the street so that my son can still make his way down the road.

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Other People

I'm starting to discover that the most difficult part of my personal journey with autism is made that way mainly because of Other People. Many of my friends experience difficult behaviors, and language deficits, and sensory issues, and these are the things that make their lives difficult. Other friends battle with school districts, or insurance companies, or Regional Centers, or whatever "official" agency is involved in their lives. But I've been (OMG SO) lucky that my experience has been relatively easy, and as such I'm able to go outside my own inner space and notice that my biggest problem has really nothing to do with my son or myself: it's about Other People.

Other People, and their attitudes about how we take up space in front of them. Other People and how my ideas about how to be a human being are different from their ideas. Other People and how much they just don't know about our lives, our feelings, our perspectives, but still have an opinion about it. Other People and their (sometimes unfortunate) need to tell me about how what they think is different from what I think, even if I don't ask. Or care.

Child 1 goes through phases of things that he is "interested" in. I put that word in quotes because when he finds a subject he likes, it's not so much an "interest," as it is an "all consuming, overwhelming obsession." These topics come and go, although some, like BART, are here to stay (forever and ever and OMGEVER). For example, he was really into elevators for a while, so we would spend our weekends riding elevators, but these days he's really interested in stores. He loves his stores. He likes to talk about how there's a Target in Richmond, and one in Emeryville, and another in Pinole. And then there's a CVS on Solano, and one on San Pablo, and another brand new one is opening up on Telegraph!!!! And so, we spend a good deal of time on the weekends visiting these various stores. You would think that going to Target every weekend was a good thing but, oddly, even Target gets boring when I have nothing I need to buy. (I tend to do a lot of impulse buying. I mean, I don't HAVE an eyelash starter kit from Revlon, but do I know for sure that I don't need one?)

This weekend we went to check out the brand new CVS that will be opening at some point in the next month. (The store is right next to the middle school he'll be going to, but does he care about the middle school? No. Not one bit. He cares that there's a CVS opening right next door sometime soon. I'm jealous). Anyway, we go to the eventual CVS, and as I pull into the parking lot I see that it's been roped off, as if they're trying to prevent people from wanting to shop there. But since we're not there to buy an Eyelash Starter Kit, I drive past the cones and into the parking lot. Really what we want to know is the date that the store will be opening, so that we can be there for its grand opening, and I'm hoping there will be a sign or something. I see that there are signs on the door so we park and get out to look more closely. Unfortunately the signs don't give a date, they just say something like "we're not open, sorry you can't buy toothpaste yet." We stand there for a bit, anyway, looking through the windows; it's just a big empty space inside and there are no shelves installed. I figure it's going to be at least another couple of weeks before we can actually go inside, so I tell him that and we go back the car to move onto the next CVS.

As I'm pulling backwards to leave the parking lot, I am approached by one of these Very Typical Berkeley People. Very Typical Berkeley People are major hippies, who feel a sense of entitlement about themselves and their importance in the world and as such they are all kinds of up in your grill about stuff. These are the people who stop me in Trader Joe's to tell me I shouldn't let my kid run back and forth down the aisles, even though he's not actually bothering anybody (and I know this because I'm fucking watching him). They will find my kid in the horticulture store and report him to the manager because he's "unsupervised," and then I hear his name over the loudspeaker letting me know that I need to go and collect him from the office. These are the people who think they know everything about everything and have absolutely no problem informing you of that fact. He stops my car to let me know that "the store isn't open yet," and I should have known this because "the shelves aren't up." I need to know that today is the not the day that I will be purchasing shampoo from this particular CVS and I "should come back in a few weeks."

Yeah. Okay. THANKS. And I thought that it would blow this guy's fucking mind if I told him that we're not here to buy conditioner, we're just here because we really like stores. He wouldn't have any idea what I was talking about; it simply never would have occurred to him that we were there for another reason outside of his own experience. Really like stores? Who really likes stores? You go to CVS to buy shaving cream, you don't go there because you like it. But really, it's okay. He doesn't need to experience what we experience (although... would it kill him to think of something other than himself???) however... this is our obstacle. This is our problem, with our autism experience. Other People. Dealing with them, and their selfishness and their self centered crap that doesn't involve us; this is the lesson we need to learn, Child 1 and myself. How do we make our way in the world, being the people that we are, despite the fact that Other People are there, too?

It's so easy to say "forget about Other People, just worry about yourself," but that's not very realistic, because they're just always there. They're in the grocery store, and the post office, and Starbucks; they're online, they're reading my shit, and they have very very important opinions about things, which they are apparently unable to keep to themselves. Even though they don't know us from Adam (whatever that even means), they seem to know what's best for us, and they have no problem letting me know that. They lecture me in parking lots and they write long, self righteous blog posts about how they are correct and I am incorrect. How the fuck do you get away from Other People? Seriously. Because "just ignore them" doesn't seem to be working very well.

Anyway, I promised myself, after my last post, that the next thing I blogged would contain a shitty drawing, even if it didn't make any sense, so... here it is, me! YAY!

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On anxiety, "passing," and fire drills

It is a well known fact that Child 1 is not a fan of the fire drill. Our school's Principal knows that she needs to inform me the minute one is scheduled. Pretty much every single person who works at our school is aware of Child 1 and his issues with the fire drill. It's written into our IEP and will be a major topic of discussion at our Middle School transition meeting next week.

One day last week I arrived to pick up the kids about 20 minutes earlier than usual. I just happened to be really early that day, it was a concidence. I walk up to the school to find that the alarms are going off (so loud) and all of the kids are lined up on the yard. Some of the classes were still walking out when I got there so I must have arrived very closely to when it started.

My first thought was to be mad that a drill was scheduled and nobody told me. They know they're supposed to tell me when a drill is scheduled!!! But when I find Child 1's teacher, I ask "was this scheduled?" and he tells me it wasn't. Somebody must have pulled the alarm or something. A pulled alarm is the reason Child 1 has so much anxiety about these things, because it happened when he was in 1st grade and that was the beginning of his anxiety about them.

I find Child 1 sitting in the line with his class and I can tell from the look on his face that he is very upset. Poor kid is freaking out with anxiety and as soon as he sees me he starts crying. He leans into me and I hold onto him and I'm so glad that I happened to be 20 minutes early.

He asks me what happened. I say I don't know but probably somebody pulled the alarm, like they did when he was in 1st grade. He's still very much not okay but he's getting calmer and I can tell he's feeling better. We sit there for about another 10 minutes, and as we do, a few staff come by to see how he is, because, like I said, everybody knows about Child 1 and the fire drills.

I am struck by how they talk to him about it. They tell him "you're doing really well" and "see? it's not so bad." His aide tells me "he did really great when the alarms went off." As if the outward appearance of calmness is evidence that he's perfectly fine with the experience. Because NO. He's NOT doing really well. He is really really upset about this. This is his worst nightmare, actually, an unexpected fire alarm. How can they say he's doing great when he's so obviously not doing great??

It seems to me that the lesson here is for him to learn that regardless of how he feels inside, what's important is that he doesn't let anybody know about it. What kind of messages do we send when we tell people who are filled with anxiety and upset that they are "doing great" simply because they appear calm? Doesn't that teach them that they must appear calm at all costs? That must a really horrible feeling, and it reminds me of how my autistic friends talk about the strain of "fitting in." Of learning how to pretend to be "normal" so they can "pass," but on the inside it's a huge and oftentimes painful struggle for them. Some of my friends have spent a lifetime trying to "pass," while feeling horrible on the inside. This is unacceptable, this kind of painful struggle. We need to do better. If our goal is true autism awareness and acceptance then we need to do better.

I understand my purpose now is to educate the staff at the school, and the staff at his school next year, and of course that is what I will do. But my kids are always my first priority and my mom brain keeps getting stuck on "what if I hadn't been there?" I talked him through the experience, we found out what happened (somebody microwaved some lasagna for too long and it set off the alarms) and now he's doing okay. But if I hadn't been there he would have been on his own, full of anxiety, and surrounded by adults who just don't get it. And that's even more unacceptable.

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Musings on Autism

This is another repost of something I wrote a few years ago. Oh, by the way, since you're here.... go here and vote for me? You need to be registered with them to vote, so, um... do... that?

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I got to hang out alone with Child 1 today; hubs was working and Child 2 had a playdate, and I was once again struck at how different these two children of mine are, and what a completely different experience it is to just hang out with the one. And I have marveled hundreds of times at the irony that my child with autism is so much easier than my child without, especially now that he's getting older. He's completely lost that autistic rigidity he used to have; it used to be that he would freak out if I so much as pulled out of the driveway and turned a different direction than he was expecting, but now he just asks "why did you turn right instead of left?" and will accept my answer and move on. Child 2 would argue, loudly, with me about it until I screamed at him to shut up (I don't really do that. Or do I?) But Child 1 talks so softly, I'm always having to tell him to speak louder because I can't hear him. And although he spends a good deal of his "off time" making noises that sound like a BART train, accompanied by various other vocal stims, he's really very quiet. And so mellow, and timid, and sweet, and of course insanely beautiful and awesome.

I used to think that his mellowness was a result of the autism, which causes him to withdraw to block out the external stimuli that his brain has trouble processing, but now I'm not so convinced of that. He's getting older, he's obviously having an easier time with the sensory issues, but he's still so quiet and calm all the time, so now I'm pretty sure that's just how he is; he's a calm and mellow little dude, a lot like his Dad, actually. So, I was pondering this issue earlier and, for the zillionth time I wondered what kind of adult he would be. How would he make his way in the world? He has obvious differences, he's super calm and mellow and sweet and the world is a cruel, harsh place. How will he be as a teenager? As an adult? Will he be able to figure it out? Will he be happy?

I've always said that all I ever wanted for my kids was for them to be happy, and adding this idea to my ponderings, I was reminded of something my brother once asked me. A toddling pre-walking Child 1 and I were hanging out at his house in the city a few months before he died, and I mentioned this idea, and my brother asked "what if what really made him happy was to be a janitor? Would you be okay with that?" Damn with the hard questions, dude. My honest answer was no, because I think he could do better, and how could being a janitor make you happy? (apologies to all the janitors and janitor's families that I'm currently insulting) to which my brother responded that if I really wanted him to be happy I would need to get rid of my preconceived ideas about what makes a person happy and be prepared to accept that my child might have his own ideas about happiness, even if it meant something I didn't agree with. 

And, I thought about this while I watched Child 1 watching his beloved YouTube videos of BART trains and I thought: running back and forth flapping his hands, whispering about BART trains and making noises that sound like BART trains are what make him happy; as odd as that sounds to somebody without autism, it's just how it is. And he's going to carry these preferences with him into adulthood, and I need to be prepared to reject my own ideas about what makes for happiness and accept whatever he comes up with, because, more than anything, I want my kids to be happy.

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Autism contradictions

This is a repost of something I wrote almost 3 years ago.

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I'm currently sitting downstairs in the TV room with Child 2 and I can hear coming from the kitchen the unmistakable sound of a chair being slowly dragged across the room. This only means one thing: there's something (probably cookies) on a high shelf that Child 1 wants and he is in there bringing the chair over to it so that he can climb up and grab it. The fact that he went in there by himself without saying anything means that he knows that whatever he's going for, he's not supposed to have.

Two things go through my mind in a time like this:

1. It's 5:15, he can't have cookies, we'll be having dinner soon. If he had asked me, I would have said no, which he knows, which is why he didn't ask me. He's being sneaky and devious, in addition to eating crap right before dinner. That's bad! I should go in there and catch him in the act.

2. There are many things involved in this kind of action. First, he had to spot the cookies on the shelf, which is a few feet above his head. That shows that he's paying attention to his environment. Second, he had to realize for himself that he wasn't allowed to have them and consciously choose to not ask me for them. He's thinking, he's weighing his pros and cons, he's (correctly) predicting the probability that bringing attention to his cookie plight will mean he won't get them. Third, he figured out, for himself, that dragging the chair over to the shelf and climbing up on it will enable him to pull down the box. He figured out the steps involved in getting the cookies down from the shelf, he worked out a plan and he's carrying it through, without any assistance. I remember, in ABA, working on these problem solving skills with him. Look, the cookies are on the shelf, what do you need to do in order to get them? First, get the chair, etc. We did that kind of thing again and again when he was 3, 4 and 5, I honestly never thought he would get it. And, yet, here he is, right now, dragging a chair across the room in the kitchen, all by himself, and getting the cookies down.

I'm pretty proud of him, actually. Good work, Child 1!!! Of course, I can't tell him that so, instead, I'm going to sit here and listen to the chair and let him get his cookies, even though it's 5:15 and we're having dinner soon.

UPDATE: It was a near perfect plan, but he neglected to return the chair to its proper place. I wonder how to tell him that without actually telling him that?

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Why "Blue" is not for me

Oh my GOD it's another post about Autism Awareness Month. I know, I KNOW... these are so annoying, and they're EVERYWHERE. Okay, just bear with me.

First of all, a disclaimer: This post is not meant to be a self-righteous lecture about how you're wrong for making the choices you make, it's just my opinion on the subject. If you've chosen to go blue this year, I fully support your choices. I won't fault or shame anybody for not agreeing with me, because I think that makes things even worse. Having a different opinion doesn't mean I'm right and you're wrong; it just means that our opinions are different. When having a discussion about these issues, I think it's important to acknowledge that this can be some really hard stuff to talk about. We feel passionately about these issues, but in the end we all make the choices we think are best for our families and ourselves. Please try to remember that as you traverse the internets this month.

So, anyway: my point.... I will not be "lighting it up blue" this year, just like I haven't in previous years. Last year I think I just completely ignored it. The year before I said something sarcastic. (Right??) I figured this year I would tell you why.

First of all, I don't think that one day or one month of having blue lights on at your house does much good in the long run. Sure, you can change your Facebook picture to a lightbulb, and then all of your Facebook friends will know that you "support autism awareness" for that day, but what good does that actually do? What's important, in my opinion, is how you live your life the rest of the time. If you read this blog, follow me on twitter, are friends with me on Facebook, or know me in real life, I'm pretty certain that you're already pretty aware of autism. I talk about it a lot on the internet. I advocate for my son and the other kids in our school district every day of the year. That is the extent of my reach, however, and changing my avatar or my porch lightbulb isn't going to make somebody aware who wasn't already aware. Plus Facebook memes make me uncomfortable. I don't really know why. At least the ones that aren't sarcastic.

But the real issue I have this year is that Blue is not an inclusive awareness campaign. Blue is for the parents of autistic children. Blue is about the autistic kids and it ignores the voice of the autistic adult. If you're going to have a true awareness campaign, you need to include all people impacted by autism, and that ranges from the nonverbal child with self injurious behaviors all the way up to the articulate adult who writes books and gives lectures. A true awareness campaign needs to include everybody, and in my opinion, Blue does not.

In addition, Blue brings with it a sense of urgency: "Our 1 in 88 can't wait!" Blue uses words like "suffers from" and "afflicted with." Blue implies that autism is a beast that needs to be fought. One of my friends tells me that whenever she hears about Blue she pictures a giant puzzle piece monster trampling towns and villages and bringing fear and panic to its citizens. (I made her that picture you see up there). Yes, it's true that for some people autism actually is a monster that came into their home and destroyed it, but for most autistic adults, that is so far off from how they feel. Autism is not something that "happened" to them, it's who they are; you can't separate a person from who they are, it just doesn't make sense. A campaign to separate you from yourself in the name of awareness? I can hear the buzzing from the cognitive dissonance all the way over here.

Bottom line, if your goal is to bring awareness to autism, all of this needs to be talked about. The issues that face parents of autistic kids are different from the issues that autistic adults face, but you can't just pick one over the other and ignore the rest. It's all autism, no matter who we're talking about, and an awareness campaign that excludes part of its own population completely misses the mark. This is what I think Blue does: I think it misses the mark. And that's why Blue is not for me.

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Everybody thinks it won't be their kid

I've been thinking a lot about bullying lately. Well, the truth is that I think about bullying all the time, but there have been recent internet events that have gotten me remembering back to my middle school days. See, I was bullied in middle school by the "popular kids," the Mean Girls. I won't go into detail but suffice it to say it left an impression on me that took years of therapy as an adult to work through. Lately, though, I've been reminded that people can be really, really horrible to each other, no matter how old they are. It's a shitty reminder, but perhaps necessary at times so that we don't become too complacent.

At any rate, my personal experience with bullying is the main reason why Child 1's enrollment in middle school has filled me with such intense anxiety. There's no question that he will stand out as different, I'm sending him off into this potential cesspool of evil and I'm terrified of what might happen to him there. Something like what happened to me. And I can't protect him, I just have to send him there and hope for the best.

"Hope for the best," meaning I'm hoping that other parents have made an attempt to teach their children not to fear difference, and even if they do feel fear, that they won't react to it by being mean to my kid. But how much control do we actually have, as parents, over what our kids do once we send them off to school? Kids behave differently in groups of their peers, they want to feel accepted, they don't want to be different. So will they just go along with what their friends are doing? Will they participate in the bullying so that it doesn't happen to them?

Last week I went to a PTA meeting where the topic was about the district's Welcoming Schools curriculum. It's an anti-bullying program that focuses on teaching kids about gender difference and family diversity. I think the program is fantastic, it's necessary and awesome and I'm proud of my district for adopting this curriculum; approximately 1 in 38, or more, school age kids have gay parents.* However, if recent CDC numbers are to be believed, 1 in 50 school age kids are autistic and yet... my kid doesn't get a curriculum. They address ability awareness in the Welcoming Schools curriculum, but it is not its main focus. Until there's something specific happening in the schools, we have no choice but to rely on parents like you and me to do the work.

At the meeting last week, the leader (who was awesome) explained the work that they do with kids, about how having these conversations is what leads to acceptance, and I was struck by something she said about bullies: "Everybody thinks it won't be their kid." We all do our best to teach our kids tolerance, and we think that we did a good enough job so that when push comes to shove, it won't be my kid doing the bullying. My kid knows better. My kid wouldn't do that.

But would it be your kid? Will it? Do we really know? As much as I know I've done my best to make sure Child 2 won't be "that kid," I don't really know what he does on the playground with his friends. I have to make sure to have pointed conversations with him about what it means to be a good person and a good friend. So, this post is for the parents of typically developing kids, who are doing their best to make sure it won't be their kid: Please have a conversation with your child about mine. Tell your kid that my kid likes to flap his hands, run back and forth, and talk to himself. Tell your kid that they might see this happening and feel uncomfortable because they don't know what's going on, and tell them that it's okay to feel uncomfortable, and they can ask questions, but it's not okay to make fun of him. It's not okay to call him names, or point and laugh, even if their friends are doing it. Tell your kid that my kid does these things because it makes him feel good, and while that might seem weird, it's totally okay.

And how about your behavior at home, because you know that kids learn by modeling what we do. Do you laugh at people who are different? Do you call people retarded? Do you gossip about other people who aren't able to defend themselves? Your kids are watching you, and while you think it might be perfectly benign: is it? Do you want your kid to do the things that you do? Because they will, and when they do, you don't get to say "but my kid would never do that."

Please talk to your kids; make sure they know. Because I'm about to send my child off to the wolves, and all I can do is hope that you guys have put in even a fraction of the time thinking about this as I have. You can't just assume it won't be "your kid," you have to make sure. Please. Make sure.

If you need any help or any useful resources that might help you have this conversation with your child, please let me know. I'm happy to help. jillsmo at gmail.com

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* "Researchers commonly cite the estimation that one to three million American children are being raised by lesbian, gay male, bisexual, and transexual (LGBT) parents" from Families Like Mine: Children of Gay Parents Tell It Like It Is. (Thanks to Erin from The Gay Dad Project for your help). There are approximately 76 million children living in the US, according to ChildStats.gov therefore 2 million in 76 million = 1 in 38.

Images courtesy of stockimages / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Somebody needs to help me write this book

Child 2 is getting to that age where he's starting to ask questions about his brother. Up until now, we've been living with "that's just what he likes to do" and similar answers, but regardless of the lack of judgment we put on his brother's behaviors, he's still noticing that he has a brother who isn't exactly the same as the other kids he knows.

Which is fine, of course. Kids are going to notice things like this and it's our responsibility as their grownups to make sure they get the information they need in order to be a good friend/sibling/partner in crime. So it was with this in mind that I went out and bought a book for him, called "Everybody is Different. A book for young people who have brothers or sisters with autism."

I haven't really had a chance to go through it yet, but it seems like a very sweet book, with sections titled "the three characteristics of autism," "odd behaviours" (it's British) and "so how are you feeling?" As I browsed through the chapter titles, thinking about how I was going to be reading this with Child 2 at some point in the near future, I thought: Why isn't there a book I can read to Child 1? Surely Child 1 has, also, noticed his brother's seemingly odd behaviours? How come he doesn't get a book I can read to him, to explain HIS brother?

So I've decided to flesh out an outline of this new book that needs to be written. Maybe somebody with actual writing skills can help me make this thing a reality.

Part 1: What is "being neurotypical"?

a. Why are some people neurotypical?

b. General behaviours

c. Is there a cure for being neurotypical?

Part 2: Odd Behaviours

a. Why doesn't my brother or sister ever stop talking?

b. Why does my brother or sister want to play with other kids?

c. Why doesn't my brother or sister like BART trains?

d. Why does my brother or sister keep asking me questions when I don't want to answer them?

e. How can my brother or sister be in the same room with parmesan cheese and not want to throw up?

f. Why doesn't my brother or sister understand how awesome elevators are?

Part 3: So how are you feeling?

a. What you can do

b. Will my brother or sister always be like this?

c. Does your brother or sister ever embarrass you?

What do you guys think? Can you think of anything I left out?

Here, I got us started with a cover:

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New study shows autism linked to moms who breathe during pregnancy

Is this woman's breathing causing her child's autism?

Submitted by jillsmo, Bullshit Staff Writer, May 24, 2012

Mothers who breathe while pregnant are more likely to have a child diagnosed with autism, according to a new study by the Centers for Disease Control.

Autism, a complex neurological disorder characterized by impaired social interaction and communication, and by restricted and repetitive behavior, is increasing at a rate so alarming, fear has been struck in the hearts of humans across the globe. In this latest study, researchers have discovered that up to 100% of children who are later diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder had mothers who breathed during pregnancy.

Breathing is an involuntary movement of the lungs which allows oxygen to circulate through the bloodstream, and has also been linked with other deadly diseases such as asthma, lung cancer and emphysema. The high statistical rate has alarmed researchers at Johns Hopkins University in Maryland: "if every single child with autism was born to a mother who alternatively inhaled and exhaled air in the act of respiration, it stands to reason that there is a connection between the two," says Dr. Jennifer McCarthy, Professor of Hyperbole and Disinformation at Johns Hopkins University, who led the study.

"Nobody actually knows what causes autism," Dr. McCarthy continues, "and no single study can explain its causes, but the data we uncovered through this research should be taken very seriously. We're not suggesting that pregnant women be advised to stop breathing during pregnancy, but this study should create enough solid evidence and kneejerk reaction so that mothers everywhere can finally be convinced that their child's autism is their fault. Oh, and more research is clearly indicated, I guess. We'll get to that later."

Images courtesy of stockimages / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Autism Parents: Common Myths and Misconceptions about Moms and Dads Raising Kids on the Spectrum

I'm proud to say that I contributed to this post, written by my friend Jo Ashline, on the various myths and misconceptions about parents who have autistic kids.

Go! Visit! Say hello from me!

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How you can help #TeamIssy

A while back I posted a link to my friend Kelli's blog about the situation with her autistic daughter, Issy, and her aggressive behaviors.

Since then they've received thousands in donations that have made it possible for Issy to stay in the residential program for another 23 days!!!

But there's still more you can do to help support Kelli and Issy:

Follow them on twitter at TeamIssy

Like their Facebook page at TeamIssy

But right now we're trying to get The Ellen Show to take notice.

Please consider clicking here to go to Ellen's nomination page and nominating Kelli to be on the show.

When you go to the page I've linked above, put your info on the form and talk about Kelli and Issy in the message.

You can say something like: I would like to nominate Kelli Stapleton and her family. This is a really great family who has tried to do everything for their daughter. Issy has autism and is trapped by her aggression. Her mother has had several serious injuries from Issy. Currently Issy has a brief stay in a treatment center but insurance and the department of health is denying to pay for full treatment. If you could just bring attention to this problem I know it would help Issy and many other good families falling through the cracks in the system. They are 'Team Issy' on Facebook or @teamissy on twitter.

For a picture, use the one at the top of this page.

Thank you!!!

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