Early Ignorance

Karen Velez solodialogue.wordpress.com My son was diagnosed with autism in April of 2010.  He was almost four years old when we received this news.  It was not the shocking blow that I’ve heard other parents describe.  For me, that blow came at Christmas 2009. To me, my son was always a “sensitive” child.  I never baby sat and, literally, had no experience with children.  I knew no one with autism.  I knew no one with children with autism.  I was, truly, the epitome of autism ignorance. For the first three (nearly four) years of my son’s life, I had rearranged my own. Previously a trial lawyer working 45-60 hours a week, I cut back my hours to 9-12 hours a week. I thought this was “normal” for new mothers. My son was obsessed with space. I bought every book on the planets. I ritualistically pointed to Mercury, Venus, Earth…. at…

Early Screening: Ode to the MCHAT

Dr. Som The Pensive Pediatrician Editors’ Note: Some years ago, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommended that childhood primary care physicians –family practice and pediatricians — screen for autism in well-child visits, as well as screening for other developmental delays. One autism screening tool is the M-CHAT, or Modified Checklist for Autism in Toddlers, which is validated for children between 16 and 30 months of age. The following is Dr. Som’s plea to her fellow primary care physicians to use the M-CHAT regularly. Ode to the M-CHAT Parents with toddlers we know you can read. 23 questions is all that we need. Answer yes, answer no, is all that you do– Just five short minutes when your child is two. It need not be English. Try Hebrew, Chinese, Turkish, Polish, perhaps Japanese. What’s up, doc? You cannot? No, not today? No copier. No pens. Insurance won’t pay? But Adam’s autistic,…

All His Base Are Belong To Him

Susan Senator www.susansenator.com When Benj was a very little guy, he used to sit on my lap at the beach, holding on tight to some little palm-sized truck or being. He did not like to move from there. I was his base. He took a long time to get himself into the sand, and even longer to play in the waves the way he does now. It worried me, of course.  All the other little kids were sitting on their fat, puffed-up diapers and digging, crying, yelling, laughing, pointing. Benj could do all of it; he just had to do it from my lap. I tried pushing him off, prying him loose, setting him down, showing him how to play, but generally, he preferred my cushiony self. Sweet Baby. But oh, God, was I worried. He wasn’t like Nat, but he wasn’t like Max. So what was he? He was…