Welcome to the Battle!

Our son, Samuel, has autism.

Even a year after his diagnosis (which is a medical term that, like many other ones, don't really fit quite right), that realization still gives me a little sickly feeling down in my stomach. Because there's an unseen enemy that is trying to use that autism to take our boy away from us and lock him away in a prison.

Autism is a prison. It's a prison of the mind. It locks its victims away from contact with others. It prevents an individual from carrying on a normal conversation. It causes them to act strange, even violently, so that people don't want to be around them. It makes tasks that we would consider easy nearly impossible for them. It separates them from those they love and who love them.

I never wanted that for my little boy. Back in the early days of our awakening, we went through a horrible phase of what I now realize was mourning. Because parents assume a lot of things. We assume that a child will be normal, develop speech, say all those cute first words like "mama" and "dada" and "ball", make friends and have sleepovers, go to school, graduate, and some day maybe have a family and bring their kids over so you can spoil them. We don't even really think otherwise. So we were in fact mourning for the loss of what we assumed would be a normal, socially healthy life for our son.

And why wouldn't we think otherwise? He is was very large for his age, in the upper 90 percentiles in both height and weight. He developed very well physically, his motor skills were right on track. He was affectionate and responded to affection. He would look right in your eyes. He even started to say some things. When we would chase him and say "gonna get you, gonna get you" he would say back "gidzu, gidzu!" as he ran. He even said "apple" as clear as day one time that I remember.

We think back on the times we allowed him to just sit and watch TV. "He's such a well behaved boy" was what people told us. We agreed. Yes, he is so low maintenance. We know kids his age who are constant annoyances to their parents, always wanting things, whining, never being quiet. But not him. He just tended to his own little business, in a world of his own. To think of that now horrifies me. Because that "world" wants to keep him there and never give him back.

The change was gradual. He went through what we figured was the "terrible twos", with tantrums and fussiness. While this was not a problem if left to his own devices at home, it was bad if we deviated from his routine or took him places. I remember one terrible night we went out with my family for my birthday. We realize now that he may have been reacting to a world that had become a sensory nighmare for him. Because autism can either make a child hypersensitive to the smallest sounds and feelings, or undersensitized to things as well. He disconnected socially, lessened his eye contact. We waited and waited for more words, but they never did come. In fact, the few words he did say before seemed to be nowhere in sight either. This is what alarmed us the most, and we consulted with ECI, who first suggested he may be autistic. Subsequent visits and testing confirmed this. We denied, then we cried, then we searched.

Two paths of treatment because evident to us. One path was the traditional medical route, which meant prescription drugs, insurance-paid doctor visits, and (in a word), hopelessness. According to the established medical community, autism, while known about for over half a century, has no known cause, and has no cure. It's in the DSM-IV as a psychological condition.

The other possible path, the D.A.N. protocol, was forged by a group of medical professionals whose own children were stricken with autism and who were not pleased with the treatments currently available. It is still being modified, it is brand new, and insurance coverage is spotty if any. They delve into the biological causes of autism. They are finding things like intestinal problems and lingering effects from vaccinations that the overwhelming majority of autistic kids have. And they insist that there is recovery from autism. They also have proof of this. At the most recent D.A.N. conference they featured, for the first time, children who have been recovered (considered "normal").

We, of course, chose the path of hope, and found a D.A.N. doctor near us. He set us on the path, and we got Sam tested. We found he did indeed have some serious issues, such as high amounts of toxic metals, an inefficient digestive system, a compromised immune system, vitamin deficiencies, and severe allergy to milk products. We started him on a wheat and dairy free diet, a slew of vitamin and diet supplements, and are now doing chelation therapy, which is removing the metals from his body.

On the non-medical side, we are doing ABA therapy with Sam every day under the guidance of a wonderfully God-gifted therapist. He sees her once a week and she evaluates his progress and adjusts his program if needed. This helps him in so many ways, he’s making great progress in his ability to learn, his speech, and his general knowledge. Sam is also taking speech therapy and occupational therapy, and we have him in the preschool autism program here in Keller. He also has some incredible grandparents and aunts and uncles and a sweetie of a little sister and other family that is in his corner. He is doing very well – making slow but sure progress. Some days are not so good, some days are better. It's a long jouney with no end in sight.

We are doing lots of things, but most of all, we remain prayerful. Because our war is not with autism which we constantly battle with every day, or the medical community that doesn’t understand the nature of a medical problem that has been under their very noses for years, but with forces of darkness that want nothing more than to take our son away from us and rend our family to pieces. We have come to realize that the physical and mental battle for Sam have direct ties to the spiritual battle that is also taking place.

Satan has tried to use our guilt, sorrow, and suffering to make us fight each other, to blame ourselves, to despair, and to be deceived as to the true enemy. He has tried and failed. Because the One who we belong to is infinitely more powerful that he is. We do still struggle sometimes, but we know who created Sam and that He keeps track of every single molecule in our son’s body. And we know that He has a divine purpose for everything, and that no matter what happens, He will work it out for the good of those who “love him and are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28).

I don’t know exactly what will happen. But I do know that it will be all right because He said so. And I also know that our suffering will not be in vain, because He has a grand plan that involves our little boy, and in due time He will make it known to us.

But we have to remain vigilant and prayerful, because the enemy is at our gate constantly trying to find a way in. This is where you come in.

If you’re reading this right now, you’ve been caught up in this plan.

A while back I was sitting there thinking, why are we trying this alone? Sure, we occasionally ask people to keep Sam in their prayers, and we ourselves pray for him every day. But isn’t part of the purpose of the church to pray for one another? And if Sam is indeed part of a greater purpose, shouldn’t we make a more concerted effort to share our requests? Melissa and I are both introverted people. We like to keep our business to ourselves and not trouble others. But then again, what right do we have to keep it to ourselves when God wants to use our story to encourage others and show his glory by what he is doing for Sam?

So as you receive the email updates, please take a few seconds out of your day to pray for our boy. And visit here occasionally for the updates on how God's healing Sam, and to read the rantings and ravings of parents who don’t don’t know what they are doing but they know just enough. Also, please feel free to click below and comment. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

- mike