Grown

I am the proud mother of two sons. Both adults now – one a Senior in High School and the eldest, diagnosed on the autism spectrum so long ago that it really doesn’t matter.

The burdens of raising children in this day and age are quite remarkable. It has to be said with todays technology we can loose touch with each other in a home more often than keeping in touch with children being sucked into the vortex of social media. Never looking up from the dinner table is not my idea of time well spent.

Since retiring early from a sparkling career to care for my eldest, we’ve finally hit a time that we could come together as more of a family. With the sacrifices of raising a special needs child, i.e. the monetary outlay, abbreviated social life, appointments and therapies, it can be said that our earlier years were a blur and nothing to be envied.

So, now, when it’s actually legal for me to run away (oh ya, I won’t lie, it’s not a thought but a fantasy) we have pulled in and are actually enjoying each other. Call it upside-down and backwards – but we are now living forward.

I never got to (had to) drive either of my sons to a soccer game. I’ll leave that pleasure to other parents. Neither of my sons played sports, one couldn’t and the other wouldn’t. While we missed out on all the extra-curricular activities I hear other parents bitch about (no time to themselves, the expense, the coaches, the juggling of a calendar) its all good.

But hey. I can’t even describe how wonderful it is to be dragged out of bed way too early on a Saturday morning by my eldest, The Artist!, who wants to show off his newest graphic art work. Always a surprise – this man is going places. Need more coffee on those mornings.

Or, watching my youngest son, also technically an adult, gain success at school. He’s growing outward and finally enjoying unique activities that appeal to him. Ecentric, smart, shall I say dapper? We love going to thrift stores to score another vintage pair of jeans, or a Pendleton wool flannel to wear overseas when he visits Europe this spring.

Who else can claim that even though the new eclectic movie by Wes Anderson “The Grand Budapest Hotel” isn’t showing in our city, yet, still holds enough interest that we will be re-creating their signature confection this weekend. Why, that would be me – any my youngest! This little sumptuous ditty requires a trip to the farmers market for the best cream available plus a run to the local german import store for the finest chocolate from Bavaria. “Courtesan Au Chocolate” – on the menu. And no, I’m not sharing.

Tonight, we’ve already planned whats for dinner. I’ve gathered up some great nibbles and drinks to watch the next episode of “The Vikings”…one of our favorite historical shows – together. We four Fryes.

I am lucky. Twenty five years this July, married to the same great guy, two adult sons who are finding success in their own way….with some tasty treats along the way. And even though, deep in our hearts, we would have preferred a different outcome than being lifetime caregivers…..we are still miles ahead when it comes to appreciating family. And now, finally coming to a time when we feel a little more normal than not as a family. Our little, teeny tiny, family.

(Oh, I should add the tag-line about the two horrible little white dogs count around here too.)

Enjoy the day! ~ Wendy Frye

“Everybody thought I was a bit of an eccentric for wanting to be out there looking at the stars, but I still do.” ~ Brian May

20140320-124908.jpg

Ideology

It is thought by some, that Autism renders the soul without ego. Living in the id – or emerging infantile ego state – of base needs and Freudian explanations over the lack of “social conscience”.

The id of my son:

Social conscience, for my adult son diagnosed on the spectrum at the age of 3 1/2 years old, be dammed. He slurps, burps or bumps into people on the street without a thought. Ever mindful of hygiene, taking two showers a day, abusing the deodorant and shampoo, he still refuses to shave his beard. Looking like a wanna be bearded Amish man – his face fuzz is just NOT manly – but he doesn’t care. An extended hand to shake receives a wag of the finger, no hands touching. Awkward? Yes. It’s all in the getting used to part of knowing him.

The ego of my son:

So. You want to talk about works of art and their makers. Discuss creations by masters of pop or surreal nature. He’s on it and engaged. Working with his new job counsellor today, a charming lady – he’s met his perfect ying/yang match. She’s creative, happy and does not hide her obsession for colorful pens….all nestled in clay mugs in a row across her desk.

Lively discussion, complete with true admissions from the young man, he paints his future out loud like a masterpiece. Can’t name the exact voodoo his counsellor possesses – but she is in possession of a certain kind of magic for sure. The conversation drifts into the nuts and bolts of the work involved, she turns to me and my son tunes out.

He retreats into the conference room. The walls littered with quotes and phrases of encouragement and an oversized white board. A blank and handy canvas, just ready for his ink. Picking up the first dry erase pen (no asking, just assuming it’s okay) he starts a new drawing . She quickly finds and hands him another box of more colors and shades from her extensive collection. Just like my son, never missing a beat.

THIS is going to be fun……
~ Wendy Frye

20131010-141844.jpg

Decided

A decision made is only as good as the intention. Well, for this family, our priorities have shifted (again) to care and support our two children – one adult on the autism spectrum and his younger brother. Our younger son? Well, he’s one of the nicest people you will ever meet.

Our intention, distilled and all whittled down to the nub, is to clinically de-stress. De-stress, with a capital “D”. Autism creates a level of unholy stress unlike many different disabilities. Seizures, tantrums, anger, anxiety, and all the suffering is just like an acute case of ‘roid-rage. Not fun, not pretty, and sadly not so uncommon anymore.

We’ve been asked too many times over long set of years if and when he will get a job, or if he will ever live on his own. Most well intentioned inquires, but some delivered via a nasty comments with a condescending voice. Again, all are good questions – for any parent with young teenagers. Our family, and parenting choices, seem to be running parallel with one major difference. The absolute minimum of stress. Our sons will chase their dreams, especially the eldest, without undue stress.

Since late last Fall, around the time of the full moon of September, major changes have happened in our home. We’ve pared down our lives to live more simply and with purpose. Retiring from a toxic and competitive work environment, weeding out relationships that just don’t work and simply living has made it clear, stress is unnecessary, and just plain stupid.

Our eldest son, he suffers with anxiety by just being in this world. What we do know? He doesn’t HAVE to get a college diploma to create his art. No. He. Doesn’t. He wants a part-time job now. We explained that it is a way to be more independent – and that appeals to him. Lesson here: no one wins if he has to be subjected to the battle for college entrance. We concur. The college can win, for now. Our courses have become direct, home-school college. It’s been awesome.

The youngest? He is concentrating on school. As a fourth year German student, we’ve made sure to budget for the class trip to Germany next year. The anticipation is killing him, and motivating him to further his educational goals. He’s the one to watch, Mr. Dark Horse is who he is.

My husband is measuring his career to retirement. While he wishes it was any day now, it’s not too far off. And now, we dare to dream. We dream of moving to a vibrant, culturally enriched metropolis to further feed our adult son with the things that motivate his creative desires. Even our youngest makes mention of being close by and growing our family with his relationships. Wow, that is one of the finest compliments of my life to date.

The bottom line? Well, as humans, were we really designed to handle so much unnatural stress on or bodies and brains? Did the maker see us in his minds eye toiling over numbers, sales and devices making ourselves sick? Was it decreed someplace, other than in our own minds, that we have to settle for “good enough” yet still be unfulfilled? Is it against the law to toss those things that stand in our way of happiness? Is it a flagrant foul to grow a pair and do what you like in this world? No. It is a matter of getting out of your own way.

In the end, Mr. and Mrs. Jones, you can keep your things, your bigger home, your rut in the rat race – go ahead, knock yourselves out. Because I cannot recall ever seeing a U-Haul van behind a funeral Hearse.

Breathe deep, live well and remain intact.~ Wendy Frye

“Adversity is sometimes hard upon a man; but for one man who can stand prosperity, there are a hundred that will stand adversity.” ~ Elvis Presley

Encircled

Growing up, in a family not designed to structure potential, my earliest years were ones of insecurities, self preservation and a desperate drive to just survive. This is not an uncommon theme, sadly. And now, while it doesn’t even matter at this current stage of life – I’ve seen others with the same root stock – they tend not to grow or simply wilt on the vine without knowing passion, or what life is really about.

Bittersweet fates sent me the wonderful man I married in my early 20’s and we, together, are building a life (sweetness!). A life that includes two beautiful sons, the eldest diagnosed early on the Autism Spectrum (the little bitter). Without adequate time for my early childhood wounds to knit close, my husband and I stood facing the longest haul possible – supporting our Autistic son through his earliest years, and ultimately, the end of his life. While some people with smaller minds and hearts might find this too arduous a task, we believe this is what carves our character, gives meaning to our days and fulfills the very definition of why we are put in this world and given the gift of two exceptional children.

In the years when our oldest was being diagnosed, it was not as common a situation as today. We had to look up the definition of Autism. We had to mourn. We had to get furious that this happened to our beautiful, beloved son. We had to breathe. We had to believe. We did all that and are still doing more and more.

The toughest moments were early conversations with family – and the disconnect between belief systems. No one can describe the closeness of an Autism family acting together as a team to recover their child (body and mind) from the edge of the abyss – unless your in the same vein. Transcending the early cheerleader role, trying to persuade the obtuse, I’ve laid down my sword. Cutting the cord with the doubters, closed minded and the naysayers, we move along.

Now in my middle years, looking behind me, that suit I used to wear doesn’t fit anymore. The one that was spun at the hand of others weaving tapestry of weakness, insecurity and anxiety. We, our little tight-knit family, are not afraid anymore. We don’t really have an opinion about anyone else’s that doesn’t support our mind-set, to celebrate small successes every day.

No, I won’t pray to St. Rita – knowing Autism has healed me. Autism has grown me. Autism has given me a reason to give all I have to my children. Autism is what motivates, and knowing Autism has made me who I am.

I am an Autism Mother. ~ Wendy Frye

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” ~ e.e. Cummings

Stereotyped

Per Wikipedia: “Stimming” – A repetitive body movement, such as hand flapping. The term is shorthand for self-stimulation. Repetitive movement, or stereotypy, is often referred to as stimming under the hypothesis that it has a function related to sensory input.

Just simply try to imagine an even more uninformed and ignorant world. A world wherein society is made up of all walks of peoples who are even less accustomed to an ever-emerging population. The population of individuals on the Autism Spectrum.

Our son was only one in ten thousand. In a city of only 200,000 it was a rare day to see another family out and about with their child on the Spectrum.

Our beautiful son, diagnosed so many years ago, yes, he too “stims’. When he was a toddler, he usually did visual stimulation. Looking at light/dark contrasts over and over to beef up his visual pathway. Later, he would hop, skip and yodel. And yes, it is very distracting for the unaccustomed.

Newer to Facebook, I can boost a new family who too are impacted by Autism. I have other moms, dads, groups, interested parties, and adult friends with Autism. These people are priceless when it comes to understanding this new world, populated by one in eighty eight persons on the Spectrum.

One particular friend rallied around a sincerely provocative idea. Parents and therapists utilizing ABA (applied behavior analysis) therapies and behavior interventions should conduct those sessions in public, say Target or Costco. Consider it an Autism field trip. Let societies ears ring with the deafening screaming and witness the erratic behaviors Autism Families share behind their front doors.

Personally speaking, we get out as often as possible. Quick trips here and there. Classes, adventures, and the like – usually its me and my son alone. He’s typically on point, not exactly engaging, but aware of his surroundings. Not exactly polite, but not as rude as he can be. It’s been very fulfilling for me to spend quality, caring time with him. The people we meet along the way, pretty understanding – maybe with more people affected the mainstream is getting it. Oops, I need to slow down here. There was one day not long ago…..a real game changer for our family.

I simply took my then 18 year old adult son on the Spectrum to Walmart (I know, never again) and left him to test video games while I picked up a few groceries. Massive visual stimulation! Sensing the expiration of time out he will tolerate, I backtracked to the video department. Oh, there he is, I thought – he’s walking my way. Good mom senses here! Wait a minute. Whoa. Why are there 6 employees, keeping their distance, following my son like the Presidents secret agents? I was instantly made aware why – he was stimmin while skipping/walking/yodeling over his path back to me. I had to laugh. No more are we embarrassed. Why? He’s doing what he naturally does – just being himself.

Just be you, James Frye, just be you…. ~ Mom

” You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will live as one.” ~ John Lennon

20130105-143300.jpg

Passed

To look forward to the opportunities to be chronicled starting with the initiation of a new year, it seems sensible to look back – first. I had forgotten and needed to re-learn how to measure success a long, long time ago. While recovering a child on the autism spectrum, the days, weeks, months, and years all fly by. Terrified we would miss the “finish date”, that notion where critical brain development is truncated by age – which signaled the end of the road. Even with a son who is now an adult on the spectrum, there is still that little “bit-o-panic” that nips at the heinie….a silent clock that ticks only in the back of the mind.

Tick.

Tock.

But wait!

Stop!

Stand still. Reminisce, go back through pictures (painful or not), now review/backtrack the calendar. Where were we then? Where were we while trying to figure it all out in the haze of life jacked up in physician appointments, therapies, special education, familial scorn, awkward glances, outright ridicule, asshole “friends”, working too much for shallow souled people and places, plus the other assorted diatribe that really didn’t matter. It sure piled up.

Now breathe.

Quantify the big and little changes from the last year (and prior years). Sweep off to uncover the foundation that has already been built to work from. Give credit, recognize true supports, cut superficiality and relationships that compete for any energy that’s less than positive. Stop trying to payoff neglect or abuse – their is no tender available. Quit competing, this is not a race. This is a life.

Now move!

Expand your sense of excitement. Consider the endless possibilities. Practice flexibility. Embrace a true career calling. Release your abilities. To relish the freedom…..

All in a New Year! ~ Wendy Frye

“To achieve, you need thought. You have to know what you are doing and that’s real power.” ~ Ayn Rand

Resolve

Considering resolutions for the coming New Year has a lot more meaning, or so it seems. Stepping back, taking care of my now adult son on the Autism Spectrum, I’ve been given a golden opportunity. The opportunity to take back my life too – refine my own “how I wanna live” goals – and move forward into a new beginning. Oh sure, eat right, exercise, breathe, payoff bills, and all that rot remains tattooed to the list. But this go around, on a philosophical level, will be the changes it takes to live how I wanna LIVE.

This time, I resolve to……:

Love with all I have,
Respect myself,
Be creative,
Start a venture, and succeed,
Work smart,
Leave negativity behind (including negative people)
Volunteer,
Keep family a priority,
Forgive those people who have worked against me, mine or ours (seriously, even the ones who say they are a friend),
Stay positive,
Become a role model,
Expand my garden, literally and figuratively
Create abundance,
Reach out to others who need a hand,
Get to know my neighbors,
Dig up the old, wonderful relationships I had to leave behind early on dealing with Autism in my home (I miss some people!)
Be grateful for having enough,
Live without regrets.

This coming years resolutions doesn’t start with the new calendar, nope, it starts right now. With the holiday festivities starting today – what better time for a new beginning. Seriously, we all made it through the Mayan end of times, didn’t we? Yes, yes we did……

Cheers! ~ Wendy Frye

“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

One Percent

When two people meet, date, fall in love and decide to move forward and get married – the union automatically has a 50% chance of dissolving before the end of the first five years. When you have a child with a disability, especially one like Autism, the odds are a whopping 99% that the marriage is doomed to be an epic failure. I believe that the amount of time taken from the core relationship while caring for a sick child, that leaves one of the two without time or attention – ultimately the whole thing just sputters and spins down the loo.

Eighteen years ago, my husband and I were the newest of the newest parents on the block. Our baby boy was five years in the making – complete with surgery, fertility processes and procedures with only a sliver of time to conceive – WOW, we had won that lottery, didn’t we babe? Netting a ten pound, four ounce baby boy – and he was beautiful!

We lived in a tiny little house on a hill in our city – and it was the middle of January. The snow had abated, our little family needed to leave the cabin for a bit of time in the wilds or someone was going to be sacrificed. And it wasn’t going to be the baby or cats. So we concocted a plan. It was a good plan, and we weren’t ready for anything specifically, just everything that might happen “out there”.

Anyone with young babies or smallish children in their life can agree that the sheer amount of GEAR required for such a speck of a person is, well, honestly absurd. But we did what most new parents do – hauled every gift, item or article perceived to be necessary anticipating any circumstance we might encounter “out there”. This was our first outing as a new family and we were going to the “mall” like other families to use that pram and/or the kangaroo sack baby holder thingy, and it was going to be FUN dammit!

Tension notching a little higher after changing our boys diaper two more times before leaving. Not just a wet diaper but a blow out – a change complete with new clothes. Good thing we had enough newborn outfits for a third world country all washed and organized neatly in the dresser drawers ready to go.

Our two door 4 x 4 was loaded and I actually managed to crawl into the backseat to sit next to our new baby boy. We buckled him in, strapped his seat down, piled blankets on him and both secretly wished the other would call off the expedition. No such luck. It was my piece to watch out, bark driving instructions, all while belying my own anxiety making me the WORST backseat driver in the world. My husband, not too kindly, told me to RELAX or he was going to have a heart attack and careen off the road – OMG not what I wanted to hear! I was shutting up now – yep….shutting the hell up so my husband, the father of my son, could drive to the mall without incident. LLLLONNNNNGGGGEEEEESSSSSTTTT ride, ever.

I watched our boy next to him in the backseat, anticipating the reality of his first outing. Sporting a cute little bear outfit, camera in hand – we were almost there. Timing is everything with a newborn, breastfeeding done within the last half hour, diapers changed (repeatedly) – the sleepy little guy should last a couple of hours before he needed anything, right? A couple of hours out of the house, long enough to call it an official day out, right?

Wrong. Oh, so very VERY wrong.

We made it all the way to the parking lot of the mall, but needed to change diapers again. (Seriously?) Another blow out – complete with new clothes…the whole shebang. And me? It was time to calm down (it was cold out there changing diapers!) and exit the vehicle. My husband had the pram ready to go……

A nursing mother hydrates, a lot. A new nursing mother who gained more weight than her doctor felt was reasonable, is re-learning her own parameters. We had a two door 4 wheel drive vehicle – and I was in the back. Our son was already placed in the pram. I had that STUPID kangaroo sack thingy around my neck. It tangled on the seat base and I was dragged back into the vehicle without the thrust available to me to launch out of the car. Boy, I had hydrated admirably that morning, the morning we were going to have our first family outing. While my husband and I shared uncontrollable laughter together, in and about my condition while wedged in the back of the car, I ultimately managed to pee my pants…….

What a day, one day in the many that have come since, dealing with Autism, trying to keep our unconquerable souls well fed with laughter and humor that abounds from such bizarre and absurd circumstances.

Happy Anniversary to my Husband! We are the other 1%, aren’t we? The 1% that make it to another side while raising two beautiful children – one with his heroic traits and genius appetite for knowledge, and the other an astronaut we’ve managed to juggle all these years. Happy First Anniversary on the other side of Autism, my dearest husband.

~ Wendy Frye

“A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing.” ~ George Bernard Shaw

20120714-141547.jpg

Admissions

I am one of “THOSE Moms”. The mom who was pushed (slammed) into a corner with a diagnosis of Autism for my child. The diagnosis period for our son was dragged out over his second year and into the third – needlessly, on a step system (Global Developmental Disorder, PDD-NOS, etc.) to finally land on ASD, moderately affected. Since he was meeting major milestones, it wasn’t necessary to address his regressive language development – so we were told. This was 1998, putting this into perspective, the book Special Diets for Special Kids by Lisa Lewis, PhD, came out ONE month before our son’s diagnosis.

“Mrs. Frye, there’s no known cause for your sons developmental disabilities, and no known cure for him….just get him through special education and get him ready for an institution. He will have a “qualified” future living in a group home. P.S. Mrs. Frye, can we take some blood for genetic research before you leave?”

Driving 300 miles home, in our mini-van, I wondered what does this “Autism” thing really mean and why am I so scared? Arriving late in the evening, we instantly (instinctively?) ran downstairs and searched “Autism Cure” on Google. (I’m sure anyone reading this article can imagine how heart wrenching that evening was.) We actively mourned for about 24 hours and then got extremely pissed, and formed our anger into action. What action during what I so lovingly call “the lost decade”? The good stuff, biomedical interventions as well as sensory therapies – old school style! We were shooting from the hip – and not taking it from anyone wearing a white coat. Does any of this sound familiar?

First, my husband and I will never be convinced that our previously healthy, happy boy was born this way. He was well and over a period of time started slipping deeper and deeper into poor health. We started asking questions during the last two years before “the final diagnosis”. Those questions were answered with shrugs and denials for treatments. We appealed our insurance company’s decision – complete with a dog and pony show….it was miserable, looking back. Absolutely and certifiably 100% miserable.

Ultimately, WE made THE executive decision as his parents DECIDING that WE would do to get him back to healthy BEFORE concluding any lifelong, abrupt diagnostic ending for our boy, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! To this day, that was the BEST decision WE ever made. Our family has coined the phrase – “Juggling the Astronaut”. That’s what we did, juggled our son who was attached at the end of a cord, a lifeline if you will, through space and time to arrive here, back with us.

I would like to share here some of our home-grown (but not so random) therapies, supplements, processes and procedures that I researched and implemented with my young ASD son. By trial and error, directly or indirectly these things WORKED and helped him REGAIN some of his health and to ultimately grow into the HEALTHIER and HAPPIER young man he is today.

***DISCLAIMER***

This is not health advice (blah, blah, blah). I am not a licensed health professional, so just like everything we do for our kids, please research and determine if any of this has value to your family and children. And remember this was the 1990’s, there just wasn’t the support available with only 1 in 10,000 families with Autism in common. So take all this with a grain of salt or a glass of wine, and thank all that is good and holy that we have a better understanding of how to heal our children.

Where did we start?

First item on the agenda was to tackle was our son’s severe allergies that presented as nasal congestion, plugged ears, and horrible eczema. Our baby boys’ immune system was out to lunch. We did not relish giving him prescription and/or over the counter anti-histamines while his nervous system was struggling to develop. So we looked for viable alternatives. The best thing EVER for scaling back inflammation and slowing down the inflammatory response was MSM. I read the book, The Miracle of MSM by Stanley W. Jacob, MD, and never went back to conventional allergy meds. Over time his skin condition improved, sinuses dried up, asthma abated and he felt better than he had in a long time. The BIG plus? – We were also supplementing bio available sulfur to aid his liver function around his phenolic sulfatase deficiency.

Best bath soak in the world: Queen Helene’s Natural Mineral Bath Salts in Lavender. This gem of a product has been around for decades and contains not only magnesium sulfate but real sulfur, lithium and natural lavender oil. Whoo-hoo! My son was not swallowing pills at the time so everything became a topical application or ground up and swallowed in a beverage. When I smelt the real “brimstone and fire” smell of sulfur in the bathroom I was thrilled! It is one more arrow in my quiver to treat his phenol sulfotransferase deficiency AND eczema. The lavender oil has antiseptic properties and the lithium? Naturally occurring lithium is an excellent mood stabilizer. After his bath my son was somewhat relaxed and ready for bed! Thankfully this product is still in production, stocked in nearly every drug store across America.

My son wouldn’t (or maybe couldn’t) swallow pills for the longest time. As a work-around we resorted to “cereal bottles”. We cut the nipple off midway, filled the bottle with warm rice cereal plus apple juice to conceal whatever powdered vitamins and supplements we could include in his snack. I used a dedicated coffee grinder for pulverizing – and still do while compounding his vitamins to this day. Who really cared about weaning a 3 ½ year old off a bottle when it was the only bridge to health available? Not us.

We spent our tax return on what had to be the last vial of Secretin on the market – had it compounded by a pharmacy with DMSO as a carrier. It really did help our son. As a replacement I was able to locate and supplement freeze-dried porcine duodenum to aid his digestive health. There are several products still readily available as alternative medicine.

Best “quick “education:

The Institutes for the Achievement of Human Potential, Brain Injured Child Course. I learned enough in that one week parent program to move forward and choose sensory therapies that made a serious and positive impact on my son’s discombobulated nervous system.

Sensory therapies:

Berard Auditory Integration Training. We found Marcie, a therapist, who was travelling through different cities administrating the training. It was thrilling to see the documented improvement in the quality of sound my son was able to hear.

Sensory Learning Program: Mary Bolles method. We spent 12 days in a town about an hour from where we live to take the program. While I learned at the Institutes about brain injury and the amount of effort that it takes to reprogram a previously healthy brain, I had to work full-time and couldn’t implement the full days of therapy necessary to help my son. But with the Sensory Learning Program all modalities of sensory input is implemented within each session. My son simply lay on a table that rotated to stimulate his vestibular system. At the same time there are flashing colored lights on a random cycle to stimulate his visual pathway, all while listening with headphones to chopped up music as in AIT. This was the best therapy EVER. Surprisingly, he was a willing participant. I worried about over stimulating him – but he actually enjoyed the process.

Binaural Beat Brainwave CDs from Hemi-Sync, a Monroe Product: These are outstanding works of art for deep brain stimulation via the auditory pathway – a different take on AIT. I catch my son using these products to this day.

Good Reads:

I found many helpful books at a local used book store. Treasures included a pediatric gastrointestinal medical book from the UK dating from the ‘60’s. Also, another favorite of mine is Let’s Get Well by Adelle Davis – plain and sensible information.

The Singin’ Pole is a good read by Doris Wilson Adams – I met Mrs. Adams in person doing a signing of her book. Her story is our story too – just decades older. The measles/mumps correlation made by the author and her son was very interesting……

Favorite whole food supplements:

I want to offer my favorite nutritional trick for the picky eaters out there. Chia seeds aka salvia seeds. Those seeds have some of the most magnificent nutritional elements I have ever run across. Rich in good fats, high fiber and protein, excellent for gluten free cooking – it is a powerhouse of goodness! In our case, my son really likes pizza. So, to clean up his diet, I make homemade tomato sauce. For a healthy addendum; I grind up and toss in carrots, broccoli and cauliflower as well as a ton of garlic as well as chia “gel”. When soaked in water, chia seeds form a dense gelatin like substance that is slightly sweet – which is perfect to put into the pizza sauce. He doesn’t even know – and there is no telltale evidence he can find.

And lastly, I’m growing Sea-buckthorn plants in my garden. The oil is superior for sensitive skin. The nutritional properties are renowned and all health benefits cross over to the health needs of our son. There are too many benefits to list – so please, research it, apply it, eat it, juice it and maybe even grow it!

I haven’t attended an AutismOne conference, yet – but certainly plan on it next year. I still have so much to learn – and to this day lament what we could have tried to further assist our son with his health. What a feeling it has to be with so many people in one place, with the same passion to heal our children.

This fall my son and I will be on our way to college. He graduated high school this year, all the while he was in special education – he was even awarded the Superintendents medal of achievement. The astronaut in him is still there, he flies high in his mind to places we can only imagine. Looking back we know his success is this: he truly lives with passion, perusing an art certificate, to ultimately create his own mark on this world.

~ Wendy Frye

“Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are? We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel? You must work; we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.” ~ Pablo Picasso 1881 – 1973

Whistle Stop

There is a considerable amount of free-flowing information on the internet, in the papers and on the television regarding the spike in the rate of diagnosed cases of Autism.

An Autism diagnosis does change the entire landscape of the family.  From my own personal experience, receiving the diagnoses for our eldest son approximately 15 years ago was nothing less than getting hit by a freight train.  The freight train that hits you is travelling full speed, at night, in the dark and in total silence.  We never saw it coming.  Most parents, grandparents and caregivers in our generation never saw it coming.  In our “day”, it was 1 in 10,000…..now; sadly 1 in 88 is the official number.  Again, I reiterate, it has only been 15 years since our son’s diagnosis.

While the debate churns and turns even nastier regarding the cause of Autism, we do know deep in our heart what happened and how our son became so ill.  We instinctively did what we felt we needed to do for our son to get him back to “well”.  We will always be skeptical of all statements, studies, suppositions or rehash on the subject.  However, regardless of how I feel and what I know, I am standing HERE, on this blog in neutrality – and choose to only educate those who read this simple blog, on my simple page about my complicated life with the same wry twist that has saved our sinking souls.

You see, we honor our sons, both the “astronaut” and his “heroic brother”.  While we never saw the train coming, we did ultimately jump off the tracks in the attempt keep our sanity.  It was necessary, but it was not easy, and the scars are still red welts, bleeding and miserable.  We ultimately went off the grid, did the fringe therapies that were emerging science at the time, and have never second guessed ourselves then or now.

It really is surreal, sensing your son was mugged and robbed of his childhood on so many levels left sick, scared and seemingly left behind to ultimately be sent to a group home or institution when he turns 18. 

Well, he’s 18 now.  He’s healthier and stronger BECAUSE he’s had to prove himself every day since he was diagnosed.  He now walks tall, he didn’t die, and he has transformed his life and ours – paving the way to excellence in his own way.

That little boy didn’t have much of an early childhood beyond therapies, medicines, treatments, procedures, surgeries and the like.  But now, right now and into his future lays a bright and beautiful landscape.  In our thoughts, those years should have been full of the wonders and delights kids experience when they are young and learning about the world.  We feel the same type of years that were stripped from our son is now in front of us. So, we GET to flip forward and continue to parent our son after his majority year, does it really matter that much if we do? No, it doesn’t matter because he is now much healthier, engaged and driven to succeed.  He is actually enjoying the idea of continuing his education in the subjects of his choosing….and thankfully; he’s letting us come along for the ride.

As the debates escalate, parties divide and research is conducted regarding the Autism debacle, feel free to visit here at Juggling the Astronaut.  I will strive to offer up some humorous, side-ways stories, thoughts and ponderings.  Even though I will never underestimate the healing ability of humor –  I can’t promise to always be funny here every time, all the time……all I can do is try.  ~ Wendy Frye

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”  ~ Havelock Ellis