Your Turn: Journey Into Autism – Trella’s Story…

Trella, CJ & Orlando

Trella, CJ & Orlando

Hello World,

This post is written by Trella Stringer Crawford.  Although we both attended the University of Georgia at the same time, we never met.  Actually, we “met” through a UGA social media Web site similar to Facebook and have become fast friends through our love of writing. 

Please read Trella’s poignant story about her journey into autism and of course, comment 🙂 .

This is my truth: I am the mother of a child with autism.  Nine simple words; yet, these words encompass many emotions for me – pride, fear, disappointment, worry, confusion, joy, pain, and perseverance.  More importantly, these words remind me that God has chosen me to raise one of his special angels – not a role I might have selected but one I realize is God’s purpose for me.

You’ve probably seen the public service announcements with Toni Braxton or billboards and news stories about autism and wondered what autism is. According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke fact sheet, autism is a neurological and developmental disorder defined by difficulties with social interaction, verbal and nonverbal communication problems, repetitive behaviors and narrow, obsessive interests.  This disorder affects one in 150 children and seems to affect boys four times more than girls. 

My journey into autism began on January 31,, 2005.  After eight years of marriage, my husband and I were blessed with the arrival of Orlando Augustus Crawford, IV.  It was such a regal sounding name for a little baby, according to the neonatologist. We thought so, too, and decreed that CJ was a more appropriate moniker to distinguish him from all the other Orlandos in the family. Our little boy was perfect and healthy in every way; however, he spent seven days in the neonatal intensive care unit because he had a neonatal seizure. Still, he seemed to flourish and thrive after that, meeting all of his milestones well ahead of schedule.  He walked at ten months old and could use a spoon by the time he was a year old.  

However, I noticed that while my son was thriving in many areas, he still was not talking.  I also noticed that he was not responding when his name was called.  By the time CJ was 15 months, I began to realize that something was not right. I mentioned this to his pediatrician at his checkup, and she felt that he was just a late bloomer with language.  Still, my motherly instincts had kicked in, and I knew that something was going on with my child. We had his hearing checked and everything came back all clear.  Then, I started to notice other things like CJ biting himself or having violent, inconsolable temper tantrums.  He also had a fascination with eating non-food items (called pica).  

As my son was going into the “Terrible Twos,” I rationalized his behavior.  Still, restlessness in my soul persisted. I felt like God was trying to tell me something.  However, as anyone will attest who has ever heard my testimony, I don’t always listen to God’s subtle hints, and He often has to give me the in-your-face treatment.  Every time I drove I kept seeing billboards with AUTISM splashed on them, proclaiming “1 in 166” (it’s now 1 in 150) children. These billboards leapt out at me in brilliant and bold colors.  Every time I turned on the television, there were the autism PSAs.   Finally, I asked out loud, “Lord, what are you trying to tell me?”

I began researching online and found an autism symptom checklist. As I perused the checklist, I felt like I was reading about my own child.   My whole world shifted.  I had only voiced my suspicions to my mother at this point and didn’t have a name for what was wrong with my child.  All I could tell her was that I thought CJ was “special.”  I knew that I needed to approach my husband with my concerns but didn’t know how to tell him that I suspected our only child-the son named after him, his father, and his father’s father- had a disorder that I was only aware of because of the movie, Rain Man.  As expected, my husband did not initially react well to my suspicions.  After he thought about what I said, though, my husband listened to my concerns. 

However, it wasn’t until CJ was 32 months old (17 months since I first noticed differences in my child) that we even mentioned anything about getting CJ screened for autism.  My husband took CJ in for a sinus infection, and I insisted that my husband ask his pediatrician for an autism screening.   She referred us to our state’s Early Intervention program and that’s when things began to happen quickly. 

CJ

CJ

On December 4, 2007, a day I will never forget, our son was officially diagnosed with autism.  I was relieved because I finally had a name for what was plaguing my child. I also felt profound grief and loss.  I grieved for the typical child I’d never have. I grieved for the loss of all of the hopes and dreams I had for him.  I grieved for the struggles and challenges that I knew were ahead for our family. 

I would love to say that I turned to my faith in God and His ability to carry me through the storm. Instead, I was angry, hurt, and devastated. I remember ranting at God and asking him, “Why?”  I tried bargaining with God to make my child “normal.”  There were even times when I prayed for forgiveness because I felt like CJ’s condition was punishment for some past sin. 

One night, after an especially rough night with CJ (erratic sleep patterns and bedtime tantrums happen often), I was at my wits end.  I was exhausted, and I felt like I had no way out.  I was frustrated with myself because of my lack of patience in handling my child.  I remember thinking that I needed the patience of Job.  We all know the story of Job – the purest example of faith, obedience, patience, and redemption.  Job’s story is one of my favorite Bible stories; yet, I’ve occasionally and jokingly coined myself the “anti-Job” because of my lack of patience.  That night at 3- something in the morning, with tears in my eyes, I opened my Bible for the first time in over a year. I turned to the book of Job, and there was the epiphany.

Job lost everything but through it all, he continued to trust in God completely and wholly.   That’s what I needed to do — trust in God completely and wholly.  I needed to be patient that He was going to provide my CJ and us with everything we needed.  That night I gained a sense of purpose and shifted my thinking.  Instead of worrying about my child being “normal” to others, I began to focus on making the world “normal” for him. I stopped grieving for what I thought I had lost and began to appreciate the things that I had gained. Keeping this focus is an ongoing process, but when I feel discouraged, I turn to Job.

My child is now four years old and is in his second year of preschool. He has an amazing teacher who has a high success rate working with special needs children and particularly, autistic children.  That very same teacher introduced us to a wonderful woman named Jill who has experience working with autistic children and providing Applied Behavioral Analysis therapy.  CJ has been with Jill since October 2008, and the changes we’ve seen in our child have been exponential.  Upon reflection, I understand that my journey with CJ and this thing called autism has been carefully orchestrated by God to put the right people in our lives at the right place and the right time.   I also realize that God has allowed me to find my voice in advocacy.  I have quietly supported many causes over the years, but I’ve found my voice getting louder and stronger as I support an issue that is not just a cause for me but the reality of my life. 

This is my truth: I am the mother of a child with autism.  Nine simple words; yet, words I have come to accept and words of honor because God chose me as this child’s champion.

 For more information, go to www.autismspeaks.org.

Any thoughts?

 

Hallelujah Anyhow!

Camp Creek Writers Group

Camp Creek Writers Group

Hello World!!!

It’s my birthday month, and I’m feeling blessed to be here – albeit a year older (in a few days, you know a post is coming  🙂 )…But when I think of the alternative, I have to say “Hallelujah Anyhow!”

Today’s post won’t be long, but it is still important. On Sunday, I went to a book launch party for Deborah Hall-Branch. I met Deborah when we were part of a now defunct writers group that met at a local Barnes & Noble.  I felt so proud of her as she read the prologue to her book “Through the Eyes of Abuse.” I plan to do a review of the book later this month after I read the book, but I can already tell it’s a compelling story. Although you would have never guessed it if you met her, Deborah is a survivor of sexual abuse and domestic violence. And she has lived to tell about it and triumph over it!  Hallelujah Anyhow!

Deborah reading the prologue to her book.

Deborah reading the prologue to her book.

Deborah’s launch party was also a reunion of sorts of my writers group. And I think seeing each other again after several months and years, in some cases, provided the fuel to reignite our writer dreams!  Some of us have continued to plod on that harrowing journey to publication. The leader and founder of our group was Denise aka Chicki Brown. She don’t stop! She is working with an agent and has written several books that she hopes will get published. In just a few years, she has become an expert in book publishing. With her persistence, I am sure she will be published. 

Mike Fuller, one of the few guys from the writers group, has compiled his captivating short stories in his book “Chronicles of a Nappi Head.” His testerone-driven stories, at least the ones that I have read, are reminiscent of that movie, “Cooley High.” Brent McKibben, another member, admitted at the party that he hasn’t been writing much lately but decided that he would begin again. Some of his work is featured here.  And his book “Liquid Fiction Volume One: Have You Experienced?” is available on Amazon! Another writer, affectionately known as Jessy, is embarking on grad school while she continues to hone her sci-fi/fantasy writing. As for me, I guess I will stop all the whining and will begun searching for agent again. (Yikes!)

It’s September, the beginning of a new season. It’s time to begin again. Hallelujah Anyhow! I heard this statement in a sermon recently. (My statement is paraphrased.) Every open door is not God’s will and every closed door isn’t closed forever…sometimes you just have to wait….

Just us writers...

Just us writers...

Blessings!

Any thought?

Your Turn: A Closeted Virgin Speaks Out…

Hello World!!!

Guess what y’all?! It’s my second installment of “Your Turn,” through which people with interesting insights and views post THEIR stories on my blog…I’ve had this post for over a month now and because of my busy schedule and good ole-fashioned procrastination, I neglected to get this post up…Sooo here goes…Calling all virgins out there? Can you hear me? Raise your hands if you are a virgin! I can’t see anybody of course as I’m sitting at my computer, but I imagine there are very few virgins out there past the age of 22 or so…And if you are a Christian and have been since you were a teenager, you are supposed to be one according to the Bible’s views on premarital sex…But as someone who grew up in the church and have known others who have grown up in the church, I know there are very few out there…

But I do know One…And on the condition of anonymity, I convinced him to share his views on being a virgin well into his adulthood…and for the record, he’s not an ogre…he’s actually quite handsome, but I will let him tell you all about it in his own words…

 She was a walking rap video, with proportions so ideal that they seemed surreal. A living and breathing fantasy, her slim waist, curvaceous hips and perfect planetary backside made me shake my head each time I looked her way…

“Concentrate on her eyes…,” I reminded myself as she lay beside me, attentively waiting for the announcement that I promised to make. “Uhhh,” I uttered as I cleared my throat.

“When…when I was 13 years old, that’s when I became a Christian…”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting my words.

“And…,” I continued. “Well, that’s when I made certain promises to GOD to not get high or drunk and to not have sex until I was married.”

She laughed. “I made those promises too…

“Yeah,” I said as I looked her squarely in the eyes. “But I haven’t broken any of them.”

Silence.

“Wait, so you’re saying…Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

I was 30 years old then…I’ve had this conversation with so many women, both churchgoing and otherwise, and the reaction is always some kind of meltdown. It makes me reluctant to share it anymore. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about specifically identifying myself publicly as a virgin, but the older I get, the more it complicates my relationships with people. People who aren’t Christians don’t understand. But I wouldn’t expect them to..

Church folk, on the other hand,..well, they say they believe this is right. But let them find out you’re a virgin in his 30s and they act like something is wrong with you. They either act like you’re the guy from “The 40 Year Old Virgin” movie or you’re just a freak – like you can’t choose to not have sex. In their minds, only two options exist: You either have to be a lame or a misfit.

Virginity is, of course, a complicated issue. I understand that. But I know a few other Christian men who are virgins (older than I am), and they’ve stopped telling church folk altogether…

These days, I often let people think I’m a lothario, as that’s generally what they assume anyway because of my ease with women. The only people who know that I’m a virgin are the women I date –and even they don’t know right away.

And it’s all because of these crazy reactions…For a while, because women in the church were so averse to this news, I tried dating women who didn’t go to church…

I think of the girl who fell to her knees, naked, crying. “What’s wrong with you,” she said as the tears flowed. “Why won’t you $%*@ me?” Or the stripper who found that she was aroused by a “dominant virgin” fantasy when she found that out that she couldn’t punk me.

And then when I did date church women, the response wasn’t that much better…They said they agreed with me on this matter but attempted to tempt me by degrees: “We don’t have to do anything. Just take your pants off…”

I reflect upon these experiences: all the women I’ve loved, all the women I’ve tenderly kissed and all the women I’ve just “made out” with…And somehow, I wonder what it all means…What does it mean that these women have passed through my life? What does it mean that women have learned to equate their worth and sense of power with their ability to grant or deny sex?

At times, I feel very alone in this journey. Occasionally, I feel disappointed in GOD. I wanted to be married by now. I did not expect to be alienated by church folk for obeying what they taught me. And more than that, if GOD wanted me to preserve myself sexually, then why does sexual energy come so easily to me? Why do I love women’s bodies so much? Why do I know how to kiss a women’s neck, touch the small of her back or speak deeply into her ear in just the right way?

These things come naturally to me…All I can think is, because sex is such a driving force in my life, it means something to GOD that I’ve been able to sacrifice it to Him.

I love women’s bodies. I love how they look, how they feel pressed close to me and I really love the idea of sex.

But I love GOD more…

And yes, I’m tired of waiting…so what’s up with your homegirl?

Any thoughts?