From Katie Wright's foreword in Changing the Course of Autism; A Scientific Approach for Parents and Physicians:

I started to lose my son in November of 2003. Christian was a sweet and loving two-year-old with a big vocabulary and a love of trucks and cars. He would point to trucks on the road and excitedly yell to me: "Mommy! Tractor-trailer! Wow!" Christian loved Barney and was frequently caught sneaking up to the television, remote in hand, trying to play Barney videos. He was extremely attached to his family, telling visitors that his newborn baby brother was "his baby" and soothing his crying brother by saying, "Don't cry my baby, it's OK baby." When he felt unsure of a situation he looked at me for reassurance and asked, "Mommy love Christian?"

Christian couldn't wait for his dad to come home in the evenings, and would run down the driveway to greet Andreas and ask to drive his car. When he was tired or grumpy in the evenings, I would have to wrestle the phone out of his little hand before he went to sleep. Christian always wanted to call his grandmother and talk about what they would do on their next visit: "Why can't I call Mor Mor? I want her! I go her house, NOW!"

Yes, Christian was somewhat socially anxious, especially at the doctor's office, where his fear frightened me. He would cling to me, howling, refusing to be placed on the white paper of the examining table. He loved other kids, but played a little too roughly and sometimes had a hard time sharing toys. We had ordinary two-year-old problems, or so we thought.

In November of 2003 Christian got a very serious staph infection and was hospitalized briefly for exploratory surgery. He has never been the same since. After the staph infection came strep, after strep came cellulitis in his eyes, after cellulitis the strep came back, and then by late spring 2004 he had pneumonia. In the midst of all these illnesses came the most damaging sickness of all—constant, truly foul-smelling diarrhea, approximately six to ten times a day, for two solid years. The skin was coming off Christian's backside due to the incredibly high acid level in his bowel movements. Have I mentioned that autism is still frequently classified as a mental health disorder?

Accompanying Christian's illnesses were strange and worrying behaviors. He appeared more and more distant, as if he no longer comprehended what we were saying. In response to questions, Christian would attempt to respond but only garbled bits of language emerged. He quickly started flapping, walking on his toes, refusing to eat, and staying awake all night: symptoms I now refer to as the four horsemen of autism. I took Christian to his pediatrician, routinely rated among the best in the state. I was told that he was likely upset about the birth of his baby brother and "needed time." My repeated requests for a referral to a specialist were brushed aside. To my great regret, we followed this advice for months and things only got worse. Finally, I called the office and demanded a referral, which was given to me with extreme reluctance...

From Dr. Jepson's introduction:
My second son, Aaron, was diagnosed with autism shortly before his third birthday. The pregnancy and birth were uncomplicated and he seemed to be developing normally for the first year and a half of life. He was an engaged, happy, interactive baby and we had no reason to suspect that anything was wrong. Sometime in his second year, we noticed that he didn't seem to be hearing us when we walked into the room. He no longer noticed me when I came home from work. He did not want us to play with him or read him a book. Our first thought was that he might have a hearing problem, but we knew that he wasn't deaf. He could recite the ABC's. In fact, he did this repeatedly. We were thrilled that he was so smart. He frequently repeated lines from his favorite movie, Toy Story. My wife, Laurie, felt that there was something wrong, but I discounted his behavior, attributing it to an independent personality.

When Laurie told our pediatrician that he wasn't developing language at the same rate as our older son Ben, she was told that some boys don't start talking until much later and that we shouldn't worry about it. At that point, the word autism never crossed my mind. What I knew about autism was not much more than anyone else who had seen the movie Rainman. I'd treated some teenagers with autism in the ER for seizures or injuries. They were severely disabled, minimally verbal people who shrieked whenever they were touched. My son certainly wasn't like that. He was a happy child who loved to be held. He was usually very content and seemed perfectly able to handle breaks in his routine.

I agreed with his doctor that we should simply keep an eye on him, and I fully expected him to grow out of it. But by the time he was two and a half, it was clear that he wasn't getting any better. In fact, he was getting worse. Now he only played with Toy Story toys or ABC letters, he spun in circles in the middle of the floor, and he giggled and shrieked for no apparent reason. He wouldn't call us by name and he never looked us in the eyes. Although he knew some words, he never used language to communicate. Shortly before this, our nephew had been diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome. This prompted Laurie to begin looking on the internet, where she found stories of other children with autism. She realized that they were describing our little boy.

We went to the school system for help, tested his hearing, saw a speech pathologist, and were sent to a child psychiatrist. Before we walked into his office, we knew that our child was autistic, but we were not prepared for what he told us. He said that our son met ten of the twelve DSM-IV criteria for autism, and that he carried a poor prognosis for any functional recovery. He told us that their behavioral program could help Aaron gain a few skills or even improve to the point of minimal social functioning, but that we should mentally prepare ourselves for the time when he would need to be institutionalized. He also told us that we would hear about a lot of experimental treatments that many people were trying, but not to waste our time and money, because they were expensive and unproven. Needless to say, we left his office in a state of shock and hopelessness. How could this possibly be the future for our adorable, happy little boy?

Copyright ©2007 by Bryan Jepson and Jane Johnson. All Rights Reserved. Please feel free to duplicate or distribute this file as long as the excerpt is not altered and this copyright notice is intact. Thank you.