Something Else You Don't Know About MeComplications Ensue
Complications Ensue:
The Crafty Screenwriting, TV and Game Writing Blog




Archives

April 2004

May 2004

June 2004

July 2004

August 2004

September 2004

October 2004

November 2004

December 2004

January 2005

February 2005

March 2005

April 2005

May 2005

June 2005

July 2005

August 2005

September 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

August 2006

September 2006

October 2006

November 2006

December 2006

January 2007

February 2007

March 2007

April 2007

May 2007

June 2007

July 2007

August 2007

September 2007

October 2007

November 2007

December 2007

January 2008

February 2008

March 2008

April 2008

May 2008

June 2008

July 2008

August 2008

September 2008

October 2008

November 2008

December 2008

January 2009

February 2009

March 2009

April 2009

May 2009

June 2009

July 2009

August 2009

September 2009

October 2009

November 2009

December 2009

January 2010

February 2010

March 2010

April 2010

May 2010

June 2010

July 2010

August 2010

September 2010

October 2010

November 2010

December 2010

January 2011

February 2011

March 2011

April 2011

May 2011

June 2011

July 2011

August 2011

September 2011

October 2011

November 2011

December 2011

January 2012

February 2012

March 2012

April 2012

May 2012

June 2012

July 2012

August 2012

September 2012

October 2012

November 2012

December 2012

January 2013

February 2013

March 2013

April 2013

May 2013

June 2013

July 2013

August 2013

September 2013

October 2013

November 2013

December 2013

January 2014

February 2014

March 2014

April 2014

May 2014

June 2014

July 2014

August 2014

September 2014

October 2014

November 2014

December 2014

January 2015

February 2015

March 2015

April 2015

May 2015

June 2015

August 2015

September 2015

October 2015

November 2015

December 2015

January 2016

February 2016

March 2016

April 2016

May 2016

June 2016

July 2016

August 2016

September 2016

October 2016

November 2016

December 2016

January 2017

February 2017

March 2017

May 2017

June 2017

July 2017

August 2017

September 2017

October 2017

November 2017

December 2017

January 2018

March 2018

April 2018

June 2018

July 2018

October 2018

November 2018

December 2018

January 2019

February 2019

November 2019

February 2020

March 2020

April 2020

May 2020

August 2020

September 2020

October 2020

December 2020

January 2021

February 2021

March 2021

May 2021

June 2021

November 2021

December 2021

January 2022

February 2022

August 2022

September 2022

November 2022

February 2023

March 2023

April 2023

May 2023

July 2023

September 2023

November 2023

January 2024

February 2024

June 2024

September 2024

October 2024

 

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

My daughter's been on my mind extra much lately. She's three, and she only has about 50 nouns and two or three verbs so far. No, she's not one of those kids who just talks late. She also only just started pointing; usually she uses a doll to point for her. She is incredibly happy and sweet; she has a lovely personality. She smiles with bright eyes, and laughs in all the right places. We think there's a bright, beautiful kid in there, but she's either mildly autistic or something called PDD-NOS. For us that means a big hunk of autistic non-communicativeness with little bits of autistic rigidity and, fortunately, no autistic oversensitivity as far as we can tell.

If you offer her a banana, she doesn't look at you. She looks at the banana.

And she's having a lot of trouble learning to talk. She's talking about as well as a one and a half year old.

I'm a writer, and I can't tell my daughter about ponies or clouds or the Good Folk. I can't even tell her about the Cat in the Hat.

I love her. I wouldn't trade her for another kid that was normal. I just want her to get better.

Yeah, and we've got professionals who work with her and all. And she comes home from those sessions and she's beat. It is exhausting for her to make contact.

I want to tell her it will be okay, but she doesn't know anything's wrong. I guess that's a blessing.

When this first came on, we thought she couldn't be broken. She's so happy. And lovely. She was just confused which language to speak. And then I thought, if she could just realize that she could get stuff by talking -- at that point she was only taking us by the finger and leading us to food -- the dam would break and she'd learn to talk.

I'm just coming to terms with the idea that she's not going to snap out of it, and that I don't know how much of this can be fixed and how much of this is going to stay.

It was a rough day today because she came back from a session of playing with other kids with problems, and she was so tired she could barely look at me. She was just out of it. When she's tired, that's when she has the most trouble connecting.

I'm a little bit like that. No one I know would consider me shy, but I find being with people exhausting. I just do it because I have to.

When I was her age, I'm told, I didn't want to be held. There are no pictures of me with my mom's arms around me. I used to think that was all her fault. Now I'm not so sure.

At least Jesse loves to be held. Not for long, but she loves it.

Today was not a good day. Lisa's in New York giving a talk (go Lisa!), and Hunter was home from school because of a disagreement with another kid that did not, um, turn out well.

I love being a father and a husband, and my life is blessed in ways that many people only dream of. I guess this is the rain that falls into my life.

In three days, we are halfway out of Winter. That gives me hope.

Labels: ,

8 Comments:

PDD-NOS diagnoses often have the brightest outlooks longterm.
As for not feeling that you're able to share some important things with her, you may find in years to come that she has things to share with you that you may never have guessed at - it will make them all the more precious because of that.
Best wishes
http://whitterer-autism.blogspot.com

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 10:46 PM  

Just wanted to say I'm hoping for the best for all of you.

By Blogger Will Shetterly, at 12:33 AM  

Don't stop sharing with her. My son remembers things from his early childhood that we thought he hadn't even noticed. You are going to need to take up the lion's share of figuring things out for her but she will catch on, often suddenly and wih wonderful insight.
She's not broken, she just sees things differently.

By Blogger Hawise, at 11:15 AM  

Thanks for sharing that... Interesting how the title of your Blog doesn't just apply to screenplays. I just read an article somewhere about an Autistic adult who had the same type. He is practically cured (if that's the rtight term) because his folks continued working with him. Wishes can come true.

Best,
Chris

By Blogger savinoboy, at 12:43 PM  

Wow. . .I can't even start to imagine what you're going through. Nonetheless, despite the difficult times, it sounds as if you approach it with grace and delicateness. At least, moreso than I have seen other people do so.

I raise my glass to you.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:50 AM  

First, THANK YOU! Your work is a huge inspiration (thanks to your book, so many nuanced, subtle concepts leapt off the page and into my head) - just amazing stuff!!

Next, have no clue if this helps, but wanted to reach out - hope it's not too personal or weird, but whatever...

My brother is autistic. Or was - OK, it's the diagnosis on his records, but with a lots of early intense work, he grew out of it - but somehow managed to hang on to the good stuff. Who knew autism would give him an edge? He hates when my family talks about him... he thinks it's no big deal. Normal school, normal life, the whole deal. But he's immensely creative and focused with a crazy-unique vision - autistic traits maybe, but art school genius-factor that comes in pretty in handy junior year of college. He's worried about internships and portfolios and animation jobs. And if his hair looks cool. (it does) Normal, right? But in my head, the memories of his toddler days are so vivd. Watching my parents deal with the pain? Not always being able to reach their son? The worst. The frustration when he zoned out? The living room turned into a fuzzy petting zoo of chicks and bunnies for sensory therapy? (when I had a date?!) Not fun. The whole family learning to sign so he could tell us "more cookie"... breakthrough. A kitchen full of crayola... the list goes on and on... (& the expressive art thing obviously stuck). But by around four he could talk normally. And his current slacker-speak? More Kevin Smith's fault than autism, dude.

Don't know what my brother's toddler memories are like, but he says love was always black and white - an absolute that he understood was just true. We love him. He loved us. That was that, so he didn't always remember to show it... But he learned to be demonstrative. Anyway, me, my brother, we're total strangers to you. (& apologies for being presumptuous) But my point? Your family is not alone. And your beautiful daughter - even when she isn't looking at you - absolutely knows you are there and that she's loved.

Hope you're finding lots of support. There are so many schools of thought and different treatments. But you have the most important part covered - it's all about love. Wishing you and your family all good things.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 12:34 AM  

I can't even imagine how this has affected your family. I think that love and faith can conquer a lot and Jesse is very lucky to have you as her rock, and if she's happy and joyful, with work and the support of you all, it will come. I believe and will keep you all in my prayers. Go Jesse, you can do it, sweet girl.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 10:54 PM  

just came across this wired article and the similar characteristics described reminded me of this post. this child suffers from spd, sensory processing disorder.

By Blogger deepstructure, at 8:52 PM  

Post a Comment

Back to Complications Ensue main blog page.



This page is powered by Blogger.