"Au-Some-Tism” – Why Not My Son

By Fern Jackson-Brown

This is a compelling story of mother’s journey of raising a son with autism and how she refused to accept the limitations that were explained to her from his diagnosis. This inspiring story will show if all supports are positioned in the correct place, miracles happen right in front of your face. Embark on this journey of a mother’s experiences from hopelessness to empowerment in the world of autism.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664136045

Fern Jackson-Brown

Fern Jackson-Brown was born, raised, and educated in the Baltimore, Maryland. She earned and received her Bachelors Degree and Masters Degree in Special Education from Coppin State University as well as obtained certification to educate in all documented disabilities from infant to adult. Her son’s diagnosis of autism acted as a catalyst to educate herself in the special education field of studies. She has taught in the Baltimore City School System as a Special Educator for over two decades. She is a devoted wife, mother, daughter, educator, and author. Her ultimate goal as a special educator has always been to educate and assist those disabled and non-disabled to obtain his or her highest potential of achievement and success.Fern Jackson-Brown was born, raised, and educated in the Baltimore, Maryland. She earned and received her Bachelors Degree and Masters Degree in Special Education from Coppin State University as well as obtained certification to educate in all documented disabilities from infant to adult. Her son’s diagnosis of autism acted as a catalyst to educate herself in the special education field of studies. She has taught in the Baltimore City School System as a Special Educator for over two decades. She is a devoted wife, mother, daughter, educator, and author. Her ultimate goal as a special educator has always been to educate and assist those disabled and non-disabled to obtain his or her highest potential of achievement and success. It has been a foreseen goal that this book would be written to share the story of experiences, goals, and triumphs of raising a son with autism. “Ausometism- Why Not my Son” is a story intended to inspire, educate, and encourage parents who are raising a child with autism as well as for parents who have children with other disabilities that require an extreme concentrated focus. This story is also written to show how pertinent it is for the village to surround all children whether disabled or non-disabled to achieve the highest potential of a happy and productive life. Her goal is to elevate those with disabilities and challenges and the family structure that surrounds them to persevere and strive to achieve the highest potential level.

Book preview

AU-SOME-TISM –

WHY NOT MY SON

Fern Jackson-Brown

Copyright © 2020 by Fern Jackson-Brown.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/06/2020

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Chapter 1 This Is Not Terrible Twos

Chapter 2 School Dayz

Chapter 3 Reminiscing

Chapter 4 Keeping It Real

Chapter 5 Time Stood Still for a Moment

Chapter 6 The Breakthrough

Chapter 7 On Our Way Up

Chapter 8 From Seclusion to Inclusion

Chapter 9 Ausometism

Chapter 10 Plenties in Twenties

Chapter 11 Thoughts of Endearment

Biography

Acknowledgement

First and foremost, thanks and praises to God Almighty for his abundance of blessings and guidance throughout this journey and for the strength to persevere through the challenges along the way.

I would like to express my deepest sincere gratitude to the following people who completed the village necessary for my son to obtain his highest potential academically and personally as well as supporting and assisting me with combatting the challenges that autism spectrum disorder commands.

A special thanks to all of the following:

Special Educators, specifically: Ms. Mernita Smith, Ms.

Darlene Bethea, Ms. Eileen Erqhart, Mr. Paul Holmes

All related staff of the I.E.P. Team

Baltimore City Public Schools System

Munir Bahar Founder and CEO of the

Brother II Brother Organization

Pleasant Montgomery II

In loving memory of Curtis Anthony Fenwick

Justin Hamilton

Staff at Fortis Institute

I am extremely thankful to my family, friends, and colleagues for the love, support, encouragement, prayers, shoulder, and ears whenever I needed it. I especially want to thank my husband Nate, daughter Faunyette, and my mother Ms. Carrie Brown for keeping the family dynamic copacetic. I would most like to thank my son, Dwan, for overcoming the challenges of autism and for being a willing participant to obtain the goals that were set for him to achieve his highest level of success throughout his entire life.

Chapter One

This Is Not Terrible Twos

During February of 1991 when everyone else was thinking about what to buy their sweetheart for Valentine’s Day, I was experiencing three days of unendurable drastic behavior changes in my almost two-and-a-half-year-old son. As a matter of fact, he was exactly two years and four months old, born October 14, 1988. The sweet little phrases in which toddlers speak had vanished and were replaced by a language all of his own. Throughout the day, he was hitting himself, walls, and floors with such enormous strength that did not even seem to cause him any pain. The eye contact had faded away. What I thought was terrible twos behavior was far more serious as well as life-changing than I ever could have imagined.

I was blessed that my mom had a day-care business for years; with that being said, I knew my son was receiving all the love, care, and attention he needed while I worked and how it eased my mind that I didn’t have to be concerned about his well-being. Some may say I was very overprotective of my children because I did not like leaving my babies with anyone until they could talk. I was only comfortable with my husband or my mom having them if I needed to go anywhere that I could not take them. Unfortunately, my mom had to put her day-care business to a halt and relocate for her own personal reasons. Therefore, I had to find another day-care provider in a hurry. Fortunately, my sister-in-law offered to watch him for a short period until I could find another provider.

On the third day of the changing of behavior, as I was leaving him to go to work, I hugged and kissed him as usual, but this time, there was something very different: he would not give me any eye contact. I thought he was angry with me for leaving him. I recalled saying to him, Look at me, look at me, sweetie. Without turning his head, he kept turning his eyes away from me, which made me very upset. My sister-in-law assured me that he would be all right and that I needed to get to work before I’d be late.

Moreover, on the third day of this drastic change, my mind was disabled to the extent that I could not concentrate on my work at all. At this time, I worked for a brokerage firm as a dividends clerk, which was a very tedious position. I made quite a few erroneous entries that morning because I couldn’t get my mind off my son. By noon, I made the decision to call his pediatrician to talk to him about my baby. I knew in my gut that this was not terrible twos behavior. As I was speaking to his doctor, I became extremely overwhelmed with describing him, asking what was happening and how soon he could see him. He suggested that I bring him in that evening to be examined.

For this reason, the doctor examined him and took blood samples to test. He observed his behavior and noted that he witnessed the exact behaviors I had described. It seemed that he too was unfamiliar with a situation such as this. The only memorable suggestion he made was that I get him enrolled in an academic environment as soon as possible.

A few days later, the test results came back and indicated that he had an elevated lead level. His lead level was elevated to a level of low thirties; however, the doctor didn’t think it was high enough at that time to cause this kind of neurological effect, nor did he have any suggestions on where to take him. On the contrary, years later it was determined by scientists that lead infection can cause neurological affects if lead levels are in the mid-teens. Approximately two days later, I saw a commercial advertisement for the Kennedy Krieger Institute and the services they offered for children with neurological challenges. The next morning when I got to work, I called Kennedy Krieger to schedule an appointment. Surprisingly, I was given an appointment the next week.

On the day of the appointment, Dwan was examined by the behavioral pediatrician, speech pathologist, auditory specialist, and a psychologist. Oh my goodness, it was a very overwhelming day, to say the least. At the end of the day, the psychologist, Dr. St. John, summarized the reports of all assessments given to Dwan. No one could ever have prepared me for the news I was about to hear.

Upon that day, I sat anxiously waiting to hear a resolution for whatever was going on with my baby, as if medication would take care of it, or some positive words such as He’ll grow out of it. But that’s not what happened. Dr. St. John literally described what was happening with my son like he was giving me today’s weather report. I heard him say things like Don’t expect him to grow up and live independently or have a family. Don’t expect for him to do too much of anything independently. I sat almost numb, frozen, while I listened to him and looked at my baby sitting in the seat next to me. Soon, Dr. St. John sounded like Charlie Brown’s mother to me—you know, the wonk, wonk, wonk, wonk. I couldn’t believe that he was giving me this news without any empathy or heartfelt concern. While the wonk, wonk, wonk was going on, I remember saying this to myself: You don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh my god, no! The devil is a liar! Not my son, nooooooo, not my son! God, please, noooooo, not my son! I was nowhere near prepared to hear what he was saying and even more, how he was saying it. I recalled him saying it was pervasive developmental disorder (PDD), which is usually the first diagnosis of autism. As I tried to contain myself and listen to him, I couldn’t ignore the emotions that were raging throughout my mind and body. These were feelings of despair, hopelessness, anger, brokenhearted-ness, and devastation. But the other side of me was saying, You’re wrong, and I’m going to prove you’re wrong.

I hope today that physicians are mandated to attend patient sensitivity classes because many people hang on every word that they say. Sometimes it seems as if there is a fine line between a medical physician and God for many people, therefore medical doctors need to be very cognizant of how they convey devastating or total life-changing information to a patient. Not once did he give me any glimmer of hope that my child would progress much in any area that is considered normal. He did not even suggest that I enroll him in their school or the Baltimore City Schools’ Infant and Toddler Program. He offered no resolutions or suggestions. I left his office feeling lower than a footprint, as my pastor Bishop Walter S. Thomas of the New Psalmist Baptist Church would say. I felt profoundly lost and discouraged, or as if someone had pulled the rug from under me and I came crashing down on my face. I came into his office as a positive, strong, concerned mother/parent. However, I left his office scared, hurt, and clueless as to what to do next.

After Dwan and I were settled in the car, I remember I began screaming and crying, shouting to the Lord over and over, Why my son? How could you let this happen to my son? I banged on the steering wheel profusely. I rubbed his head, arms, and legs while praying to God to make this go away. Then I unhooked him from his car seat and I just hugged him, squeezed him, and rocked him while stroking his head, telling him how much I loved him and that I would make it better. I was going to prove everyone that evaluated him wrong. I refused to accept the limitations that were being bestowed on my son. It was later that I realized I was experiencing the first stage of the seven stages of grief: disbelief. The other six stages of grief are denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, and acceptance/hope. Even though much of what Dr. St. John said echoed in my mind with every waking moment, I was still very much in denial regarding what their assessments concluded about my son in terms of what he would not be able to do. Not once was I told what he would be able to do. However, I believe that my disbelief of his diagnosis along with the will to prove them all wrong fueled my desire to educate myself to the best of my ability to be equally knowledgeable, if not more knowledgeable of my child’s disorder than anyone else who was involved in his cognitive development and his life. After all, at the end of the day, he’s my son; therefore, I am responsible for who he becomes as a man.

It was such a long ride home, with my tear-filled eyes, thoughts crashing together in my mind. After I parked in front of the house of the apartment we lived in, I sat there for a while, still thinking, feeling like I was thrown from a plane without a parachute. I eventually took us in the house and got him settled and comfortable. I was grateful that my daughter and my husband weren’t home at the time. I cried so heavily until soon there were no more tears coming from my eyes. I had used up every tear that was in my ducts. I really needed someone at this moment to console me, make me feel everything was going to be all right, so I called my mother. I was extremely hysterical when she answered, which of course led her to speak as soothingly as she could to me. I eventually calmed down enough to tell her about our doctor’s visit. As any dear, sweet, understanding mother would do, she reassured me that everything was going to work out fine and he was going to be fine. Yet still, I was in disbelief and shock.

From that day and for the next few weeks, I struggled to find an educational facility that would accept him before being potty-trained. Unlike now, during this time, your child had to be potty-trained before entering any early childcare learning facility. I contacted the Upton Early Childcare Learning Center, where my daughter had attended, and explained to the director the