Autism, strange as it seems, is like a diamond; there are many, many facets. Most days it's more like an onion; layer upon layer and every one stinks!
I came to learn that more than just speech and language and cognitive development were affected. Matthew's appetite was affected as well. To say that his appetite sucked was a bit of an understatement. Starch and sugars were the staples of his diet. Canned corn, macaroni and cheese, Lucky Charms (minus the cereal; Matthew would go through and eat the marshmallows and leave the rest) without the milk, Kool-Aid, juice, water...these were just a few of the limited foods on Matthew's plate each day. He ate pizza without the topping and spaghetti without the sauce (it's only been within the last two-three years that he will eat spaghetti with the sauce). He enjoyed ice cream and Jello Jigglers. To make up for what he was lacking in his diet, I started him on chewable vitamins. The first time he bit into one, he made a face. He kept that face all the while he chewed. After that, it seemed easier and he never fought taking them, much to my relief.
In between, Matthew began chewing. Not his fingernails or even small objects. He chewed his shirts. He chewed through the seams, holes bigger than anything I've ever seen made by moths. After losing count of the number of shirts I had to throw out, I talked with my husband. At that time he worked at at home for the physically/developmentally disabled and one day he happened to mention Matthew's chewing to the R.N. who was also a distributor for a health and wellness product called Herbalife. She had mentioned a product called herbal aloe concentrate and suggested putting a capful in everything he drank. Aloe, of course, is a healing agent and because many individuals on the autistic spectrum had food allergies of one kind or another, the aloe would soothe and heal the digestive tract. I was using Herbalife at the time and I was desperate for something, anything to help him. I had tried the herbal aloe for myself and loved it; it reminded me of lemon juice. And so I bought it for Matthew and as recommended I put a capful in his drinks. From Kool-Aid to juice to soda to water, if it was a liquid, it was spiked with herbal aloe. At first I couldn't tell if it were making a difference. But with each day, I noticed that Matthew's chewing had slowed down. Within a month's time, he stopped chewing altogether.
And then there was the matter of touch.
Early into Matthew's diagnosis, I was reading anything I could get my hands on that had even the slightest thing to do with autism. A particularly engaging book was Temple Grandin's autobiography "Emergence: Labelled Autistic." She talked about how certain sights and sounds were too much for her eyes and ears to deal with and how her clothes felt like sandpaper against her skin. Matthew hated anything that seemed to hug tight to his body. He preferred loose fitting shirts and shorts and pants with the elastic waist bands. Blue jeans? Forget that! If I said, "Matthew, I love you," he would do one of two things. He would A) run down the hallway screaming or B) throw himself down on the floor and hit himself in the forehead. Trying to hug him was a nightmare. Just as when I would say "I love you," he would pull away from me and throw himself down, screaming and crying. I was heartbroken. What was I doing wrong? Why was he acting like this with me? Didn't he know I loved him and was just trying to show him that? I'm sure somewhere inside of him he knew. But what I didn't know was that, as with most autistic individuals, there were sensory issues going on. I didn't know that every nerve in his body was wide awake and going in full force, that his hearing as well his eye sight was keener and way more sensitive than yours or mine would be. I didn't know that the slightest touch, such as a hug which would feel soothing or comforting to someone else, would be a source of pain for him. I knew nothing of any of this and until I learned, and I eventually did, I took his screams and outbursts personally.
Of course now, Matthew is one of the biggest cuddlebugs you've ever met in your life but that didn't happen overnight. It didn't happen by him being forced. It happened when I learned to make myself available and let him come to me. How did I do that? I'm really not sure. A series of steps, perhaps. Learning that, yes indeed, my son loves me but he has to show me in his way on his terms. And oh, the bumps and bruises acquired along the way!
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