Back on Track

I watched my little boy leave tracks along the sand.
The waves and depth were telling him to swallow sound,
to size the obscure sea, to search, to understand
the constant ebb and flow of all things lost and found.


The waves and depth were telling him to swallow sound.
He mutely made his way to unfamiliar land.
The constant ebb and flow of all things lost and found
began to grasp the fingers of his empty hand.


He mutely made his way to unfamiliar land.
My shadow echoed him, then keenly turned around,
began to grasp the fingers of his empty hand.
I pulled to make him stay on soft but solid ground.


My shadow echoed him then keenly turned around
to size the obscure sea, to search, to understand.
I pulled to make him stay on soft but solid ground.
I watched my little boy leave tracks along the sand.


copyright 2010, Peggy Putnam Owen

I wrote this poem last year. It was inspired by the photo in the previous posting. The pantoum is a form of verse that uses repeating lines throughout the poem. Writing is therapeutic. I'm not out to win any prizes!

20. Therapy

Sean was a month shy of his third birthday. At age three he could enter the Early Intervention Program full time at Houston Elementary. With Savannah in preschool, and Sean in school, I was hoping to have some downtime and recover from the drama over the years. It had been a whirlwind.

Sean began medication right away. We gave him Tegretol and slowly watched him return over a couple of weeks. The mood in the house changed. He could look us in the eye for longer than a second. He was happier. The tantrums were still ever present but at least there was help! He began to eat better, it seemed. When he was a baby he ate everything. He was not a picky eater until the autism started to take over. Then he only ate linear yellow foods such as french fries, grated cheddar cheese, french toast cut into strips, bacon. If I offered him a chunk of cheese he wouldn't eat it like he did before the autism. When I grated it, he ate it by the handful. I learned to be creative.

We were on our way. Life was still as hard as ever but the light was on. There was a lot to learn. The drive to educate myself was super strong. I began to write poetry. I could express myself without speaking directly to anyone. I loved to write poetry then and still do. It is pure therapy.

Sean at South Padre Island - age 3

19. In the Report

"Sean appears to have very little control over his emotions. In one 45 minute session he displayed shyness, hyperactivity, tantrums, crying, self-stimulating behavior preferred by Sean is trickling Q-tips, sand, or other materials in front of his face. He will then pick up the material and slowly trickle it past his eyes, again. Sean will do this activity by the hour. Sean indicated he understood a question with a nod, once. He usually reacted to being called by name facing the person, but not always. Sean has a very short attention span, except for the self-stimming behavior."

Glossary Term: Stimming

Definition: Short for "self-stimulation", a term for behaviors which stimulate one’s own senses, such as rocking, spinning, or hand-flapping.

The report is intensive and thorough. He was mostly uncooperative so I had to report on many of the behaviors used in the Battelle Developmental Inventory. It was reported that their "observation appears to confirm most of the reported behaviors." The report states that Sean demonstrated significant emotional/behavioral deficits in areas of: tantrums, feeding, dressing, play and language.

The Result:

"Based on the findings reported in The Comprehensive Individual Assessment, Part I, the student appears to meet specific eligibility criteria for the following impairments: NCEC (Non-categorical early childhood) - Autism/PDD (Pervasive Developmental Disorder)"  

With confirmation from Neurologist Dr. Seals, Sean was officially Autistic. 

Damn.

18. A Silent Message

My honesty was disturbing to my husband to say the least. I think he understood or I always thought he did until years later. But at the time, he helped me by checking in on me throughout the day. His calls gave me comfort. He was supportive and understanding. Come Friday night, though, I was at Pat's. It was my only break.

We began attending services at First United Methodist Church. I was committed to finding peace for my family which meant learning how to maintain balance in every area: mind, body and spirit. I longed to be closer to God. I had a few questions. I needed to understand what was happening to us. At first I was tip-toeing around the subject when I prayed. I was careful. He was GOD and I was a sinner. I was afraid of Him. I felt like Dorothy in front of The Wizard when I prayed. My perception needed tweaking.

I loved my new church. I was listening, really listening and couldn't wait to listen some more. Savannah and Sean were in good hands in the nursery. Sean didn't tantrum as much in new places. The nursery was engaging and colorful. Besides, he had Jackie (pronounced, "Gackie") with him which was a sure fire way of knowing that everything was going to be all right! Jackie was his sidekick - a stuffed jackrabbit my parents gave him when he was born, two days before Easter of that year. Jackie was a part of our family. With Jackie tucked under one arm and a pacifier (pronounced, "paffy"), Sean seemed good to go aside from the transition from my arms to theirs. Each time was harder. Maybe if we attended every Sunday it would have made the difference. 

One particular Sunday I took him to the nursery as usual. I put him down and he stiffened and began to cry. He appeared different. Either that or I was paying closer attention. I saw him clutch Jackie ever so tightly, walk to a corner, take a deep breath and sigh. I watched him resign himself. Without a single sound I heard him say, "Nobody gets it." I didn't process it all right away. Should I stay or should I go?

It seemed like the sermon went on and on and on. I think this was the day I stopped listening.

17. It's a Good Thing He's Cute!

I know you've heard the saying, "It's a good thing he's cute!" Trust me when I tell you, it's a good thing he's cute!! I was fortunate that he was cute and pleasant when he wasn't having tantrums. He was my funny little guy. He was admired by strangers because he was so beautiful and his smile was addictive. And I would say, "It's a good thing he's cute!"

He was losing language and showing signs of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder also known as OCD. He would bring me a video tape of "Winnie Pooh" as he would say, so, I'd go to his room and put it in. A minute later he would bring it to me again and say, "Winnie Pooh". This went on again and again until he was in a full blown fit. We were living in circles. Every day we ended up in a wad on the floor, exhausted.

Circles are still very present in our life today. Circles are safe and secure. Circles are predictable. Circles are sometimes boring. Circles are sometimes maddening. Circles are predictable. Circles are safe and secure. Circles are still very present in our life today.

After each tantrum, he seemed fine. He acted like nothing even happened. I was constantly amazed. I began to look up seizures thinking maybe he had no memory because of possible complex partial seizures. It didn't fit. But the abrupt shift in mood was so bizarre. I couldn't shift so fast or easily. I knew though, that these moments were critical to our getting through the day without thoughts of windows or Mister Spoon. We were up and down and all around and around and around.

Our appointment for testing was on the books. An appointment with Neurologist Dr. Seals from San Antonio was on the books.

Where was Savannah? She was still in her own little world. Unfortunately, I was grateful for it.