 |
| AMIE'S STORY |
| I am the mother of three precious premature babies and I find the stories regarding miracles most inspiring. The story you are about to read is about my son, Benjamin, and his recovery from autism. It is such a miracle because true recovery from this heartbreaking disorder is extremely rare. There are so many people who could benefit from my story because most doctors feel there is no hope for these beautiful children, and that is not true. In the midst of my sorrow, it was the light from surviors that saved me, and kept me going. Now it is my turn to be someone else's light. I was happily in the sixteenth week of my second pregnancy when, during a routine ultrasound, the doctor discovered that my baby boy seemed to have a large mass growing in his stomach. After a closer look, the diagnosis became a condition called "echogenic bowels." This was not much of a problem, until during another ultrasound, the doctor noted my baby had an unusually thick pad of skin on the back of his neck. This combined with the bowel condition made my doctor tell me the dreaded news: my baby would most likely have Down's Syndrome. An unusually high blood test seemed to confirm it. My family was devastated about the news. My husband, Shane, didn't say much, but I could tell he was hurting. I, on the other hand, kept painting myself pictures of happy, loving Down's children. It wasn't until I tried to pack the hospital bag that the reality hit me: I didn't know if he'd even be coming home with me! Down's babies usually have a lot of medical problems. Shane and I took my one year old daughter, Kelsey, to church. There our unborn baby was prayed for and anointed. After that, besides my emergency gall bladder removal surgery at six months, things went fine. The early morning of April 28, 1999, Benjamin Andrew Thomas was born, weighing six pounds. The best part was, he did not have Down's Syndrome! He was given a clean bill of health and we went home. Things seemed to be okay for awhile. Ben was a very good baby, and liked to be held. He laughed and smiled a lot, and seemed to be very happy. It wasn't until he was a year old that I realized his speech wasn't developing. And not only that, he would not look at anyone or even respond to his name. He did not communicate in any way. I had him evalutated by our local Early Invertion specialsit, who recommended we take him to upstate West Virginia University at Morgantown. They were supposed to be the best, and we would have a diagnosis. As she talked, Ben sat in the floor, in his own little world, spinning a lid in circles. Spinning became an obsecssion for him. Before the appointment, things got worse. Ben started tantrumming often, and would not wear shoes. He refused to give up his bottle, hurling his cup at me each time I offered it. He wouldn't let anyone come close to him. In my heart, I knew what the doctors confirmed: Ben had autism. I don't remember the days that followed. I cried constantly. I would sit and stare, as blankly as Ben, at absolutely nothing and cry. I cried for the friends he'd never make, the family he'd never have, the life he'd never live. He would be handicapped forever, and nothing I could do would take it away. I also had no one to talk to. By this time, Ben had just turned two, and we also had baby Ashleigh. The kids were my only friends. Shane wouldn't talk about it, my family didn't understand. And my only son treated me like a stranger. One day, something in me snapped. I felt horrible guilty. I was acting as if Ben had died! In a way, I felt as though all my hopes and dreams for him were dead, but here was the same little boy. I felt like he would say, "Why are you crying? Just because I'm different doesn't mean I'm hopeless! I AM STILL ALIVE!!" And from that point on, I was a fighter. I read everything about autism I could find, and made copies of things for my family. I enrolled him in Early Intervention Preschool. I consulted doctor after doctor about testing and treatments. I knew I had to be the voice for my silent son. Ben didn't fight about the preschool. He paid no attention to the other children, and played with the toys, which he mostly used for spinning. His teacher watched him and learned what his favorites were, and used them to work with him. Then came the day she told me Ben came up to her and hugged her! |
 |
|