Ryan's Recovery: The Darkest Before the Dawn

By Angie Ward

Ryan's Recovery: The Darkest Before the Dawn takes you on a journey of almost twenty years in time, starting in 2000 and ending in 2019. It is a story of heartache to triumph and everything in between, raising an autistic child. Ryan Ward went from being diagnosed as severely autistic with only echolalic speech, no need for human affection, and no understanding of the world around him, to becoming an artist and a working adult with high-functioning autism. The time line starts in the midst of recovery protocols and goes back in time to reveal the entire story. It is a story of climbing out of complete despair, confusion, and depression, to standing up and making a difference. It truly shows you what it takes to put someone first in your life in every aspect. Everyone will say they put their children first, but when it comes to special-needs children, this phrase takes on an entirely different meaning. The book guides you through special diets, homeopathic protocols, several different therapies such as OT, PT, sensory, visual, behavioral, chiropractic, and craniosacral. It also touches on battles with school authorities, IEP meetings, and bullying. The story also shows how autism has the ability to interfere with marriages, relationships with other children in the family, social life, and just plain daily living. It does, however, also send the message that if you put your mind, heart, and soul into anything you want to accomplish, that nothing is impossible. It is a story that proves that when presented with a mountain that looks too high to climb, you find a way to tunnel under the mountain, go around the side of the mountain, or fly over it if you have to; but you never ever give up. In the end, the story will show you that no matter which way you choose to get to the other side of the mountain, you will indeed get there, and when you do, the feeling of accomplishment and pride in what you have done makes all the difficult times in the past only a stepping stone that got you there. What seemed impossible twenty years ago has now become reality, and walking through this journey with my now adult son has made me a stronger person and given me the confidence to know there is nothing that can't be obtained with the correct professionals, friends, family, and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645445593

Angie Ward

Angie Ward is a leadership teacher and writer with over 30 years of ministry experience in church, parachurch, nonprofit, and educational contexts. She is an award-winning contributor to Christianity Today leadership publications and a highly regarded teacher and speaker. A sportswriter in a previous life, Angie and her husband live in Denver, where she serves as Assistant Director of the Doctor of Ministry program at Denver Seminary.

Book preview

Chapter 1

How It All Began

It was a hot day in August, and as the air conditioner blasted away, I was feverishly putting clean clothes in their respective drawers. As I darted from room to room with an armful of folded T-shirts, I passed by my then eight-year-old’s room and heard the familiar sounds of him blasting the world on his video games. Something was different this time though. Ryan, who in the past had sat feet away from his brother, Cody, and watched the video games with an almost comatose-like stare was playing the games. He was not only playing the games, but he understood what it was he was supposed to be doing and verbally commenting on his accomplishments. I stood in the hallway and watched with amazement. My mind drifted back in time only months ago when Ryan could not even hold the controller to the video game. He refused to sit by his brother and stared contently at the screen but never attempted to play, and he screamed, No! when asked if he wanted to play.

Bubby, look! Ryan commented as he blasted another enemy of earth out of existence. I could not believe this was the same child who, six months ago, would lie on the floor and scream facedown. This child who would not allow you to comb his hair or brush his teeth or wash his hands without an all-out battle and whose only words came from movies was playing video games. When given a choice of more than one thing, he would scream if the wrong item were offered but never verbally asked for the correct one. I thought to myself as I finished putting Ryan’s clothes away how different his life might have turned out if not for Parents Magazine and Karyn Seroussi.

I had all but given up my subscription to Parents Magazine. My children were older now, and my sister-in-law had just had a baby, so as a gift, I kept my subscription going and gave it to her when it came in the mail every month. Usually I didn’t even see it at all since we lived right next door. God must have had other plans for this month’s issue however. That day I decided to walk to the mailbox with my sister-in-law and mother-in-law to get the mail. It was January and cold. The kids were bundled up and playing in the yard. As I pulled the magazine from the mailbox and almost instinctively handed it to Rosanna, something caught my attention. On the very front were the words, We Cured Our Son’s Autism. I remember thinking, Oh, what now? My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked Rosanna if I could read the article and then pass the magazine on to her. She agreed, and I began to flip to the page listed on the front cover even as I walked down the dirt road. I could hear them talking, but I drowned them out and began to read. I walked to my yard and sat down in a lawn chair and continued to read. The more I read, the more fascinated I became. I stopped to suck in a breath and put my hand over my mouth at one point. I did this several times during the article due to the similarities between the child in the article and Ryan. This child had craved milk. He lacked speech and eye contact. He had diarrhea. Karyn’s article explained that milk and wheat products were like an opioid drug. Autistic kids cannot break down the proteins in these foods and in their whole form are referred to as opioids. The word opioid is derived from opioid drugs, such as morphine or opium. The kids crave the foods that are making them sick. The foods that are causing them to have diarrhea daily, flap their hands, and hit themselves in the head are the only foods they seem to want to eat. Oh god! is all I could say. I sat there reading and feeling my stomach do backflips. I put the boys in the bathtub and read the whole article a second time. I had never been so sure of anything in my life. I had never been so sure that this child’s events that lead into full-blown autism were identical to Ryan’s. Ryan had a predisposition to immune dysfunction due to my diabetes and his father’s irritable bowel syndrome. Thinking back once again and putting yet more pieces of this puzzle together, I remembered the day Ryan was born.

Chapter 2

A Look Back at Baby Ryan’s Birth

Ryan was delivered by cesarean section at thirty-seven weeks gestation. This child was born three weeks early and had both parents with immune dysfunction diseases. Yet the hospital Ryan was born in followed the policy of giving all newborns a hepatitis B vaccination at birth. I don’t recall ever being asked if I wanted it or anybody explaining the vaccine or it’s benefits and risks. My husband and parents were standing out in the hall, watching Ryan through the glass window and noticed he was screaming at the top of his lungs. Not unusual for a newborn, but this was excessive. My mother commented that they went down to eat lunch and when they returned an hour later, he was still screaming. Only this time, the nurse was wiping his head with a cloth and talking on the phone with someone. We could only assume it was the doctor. Nothing more was thought about the incident at the time. I later learned that prolonged high-pitched screaming is just one of the signs of a vaccine reaction.

When I held Ryan for the first time, he seemed lethargic compared to my first baby. His fingers and toes were blue, and he slept a lot. Now everybody, including my mother, reassured me and told me that he was just new. I heard them, but something was not right. I wish to this day that I had had the insight to speak up and say, Something is wrong with my baby! But I didn’t. My silence spoke for me, and with my silence, I told them it was okay to give my child a shot I neither understood nor asked for. In the days that followed, Ryan seemed to be okay but still very lethargic and often had to be woken up to eat. He would fall asleep with the nipple in his mouth, and I would have to shake the bottle to wake him. He had jaundice, too, but I was told not to worry. They put him under the lamp, and it was gone. Ryan was very different in comparison to my first baby, but I was again reassured by my doctors, friends, and family that he was a good baby and was told I really should not compare the boys. So I accepted this and continued to ignore what I now know to be vaccine-related issues. Ryan had what they called bronchiolitis several times in his first three months of life. He was diagnosed with asthma officially at four months. I later learned that the hepatitis B vaccine contains aluminum. Aluminum is considered a respiratory toxin. Later, Ryan’s hair analysis would show very high levels of aluminum.

Ryan was very sick his first two years of life. Our days were plagued with ear infections, upper respiratory infections, and croup cough without fail every October when the seasons changed. Croup would then prompt an asthma attack and land us in the ER. I was never quite sure which came first. Did the asthma cause the croup, or did the croup cause the asthma? I think the aluminum caused them both. As sick as he was, he was a good baby, and you know what they said about something being too good to be true. Looking back, I remembered putting him down and never having to pick him up for hours. He was content to just lie there. He never cried except when he was very hungry. My mother-in-law kept him for the first year or so until she had a heart attack and was no longer able to. Tony’s cousin’s wife, Lisa, kept him up until the time I quit my full-time position. Ryan was sick all the time, and I was taking days off work on a weekly basis. I wanted so badly to be home with the boys. I wanted to eat breakfast with them and put them down for nap. So in September of 1995, just a few months prior to Ryan’s second birthday, I put in my notice. Things were very hard financially, and we eventually filed for bankruptcy to ease the strain. There were those who looked down their nose at that decision, sighting that it was a cop-out. Those who have not lived a situation should not comment. My children and my happiness were much more important than any bill. I simply did what I had to do.

Chapter 3

The Diagnosis

To make some extra money, I kept some kids around the neighborhood in my home. That was difficult with Cody still being in preschool and Ryan’s health still staying in the negative. I remembered going to Cody’s activities at preschool and Ryan just staying in the corner not playing with the other kids. I always attributed it to him not feeling well. That was what I told myself at the time, but I knew there was something wrong with him. I knew there was something wrong, but autism never entered my mind. Not once did I ever think there was anything wrong with his brain.

There was something wrong, however, something very wrong. As time passed, it came increasingly evident that Ryan was not normal. He was quiet and reserved and didn’t seem to care whether people were around him or not. He didn’t care whether I left him with somebody or was with him. It was all the same to him. No separation anxiety, no two-year-old curiosity, no nothing. He was like a shell. A shell that played the same games and watched the same movies over and over. I still somehow convinced myself that he was just quiet and not as outgoing as Cody. Cody was almost two years older than Ryan, with bright red hair and a mischievous smile to match. He was into anything and everything. He asked questions, corrected me when I was wrong, and was generally curious about the world around him. Ryan was so different. He played with his trains for hours at a time, rolling them back and forth on the floor. He would put his head on the floor even with the wheels and closed one eye as if he were looking through a telescope. He would stand over the bathtub and drop bobby pins in one at a time, spacing the time between each drop to the letter. If you interrupted one of these painstaking performances, he would get uncontrollably upset. I remembered a time when he had made a line of cars across the living room floor. He never played with cars like most little boys. He never made car noises and made them go. He would just line them up in a long row and stare at them. I walked by and accidentally knocked one out of line. He began to scream and cry and kick. He screamed as though he were in pain. As though somebody had hurt him. It was so strange, and I remembered just sitting there watching him and thinking, Oh my god! This can’t be normal! When he turned two and was not talking much at all, our concern increased. My mother called one day and had seen a television show on children with autism. She had always been a worrisome person and tended to overreact. Because of this, I didn’t get overly upset after she called. She told me that these children had all the same symptoms as Ryan. They banged their heads, bit themselves, screamed, and didn’t talk.

Okay, okay, I will call the doctor.

I convinced myself that I was doing it to make my mother feel better. I wish that it had.

I saw my pediatrician shortly after my mother’s phone call. When she tried to examine Ryan, he crawled up under the table and screamed at the top of his lungs. He cried and cried and wouldn’t allow her to touch him. I watched her face as she scribbled a few things down. She said she would be right back and left the room. I coaxed him out from under the table, and he sat in my husband’s lap. Tony is a fireman paramedic, and sympathy is just something that he does not dole out easily. I looked over, and he had a tear rolling down his face and was rocking Ryan back and forth. I was frozen in time. I couldn’t move or speak. I don’t think I have ever been so paralyzed with fear in my life. I knew something was very wrong. When the doctor returned, she told us she wanted Ryan to see her husband who was a developmental psychiatrist.

I said, My mom saw this show on TV about autism and—

She cut me off and said, Yes, that is what I am thinking.

I don’t know how I kept from throwing up right there on the spot. I have never been shot and don’t pretend to know what that feels like, but if I had to guess, it would be the pain I felt in my stomach that day. I walked out into the hall with the doctor to get my referral.

She turned to me and said, What’s wrong? As a mother, you knew something was not right. I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know. My husband can help you more and make a formal diagnosis. Have a nice day!

Have a nice day? Did she really say that? My child has this thing wrong with him that the only thing I know about it is a movie starring Dustin Hoffman, and he couldn’t communicate with me, and she wanted me to have a nice day? We came home and called my mom and dad. I cried when I heard my dad’s voice.

Mom was right! I said, She was right!

Tony’s mom came over and one of my best friends Lisa who used to keep him when I worked. I was okay for a while. People called all day and told me how sorry they were and kept asking if I was okay. I was okay, wasn’t I? I was, or so I thought. I was okay until Ryan went