Gideon's Story

While I was pregnant with Gideon, Daniel was diagnosed with autism and I prayed and prayed and prayed he would be a girl because the chance of autism were less. Then, when I found out he was a boy, I thought, Surely, God wouldn't give me two children with autism.  But by the time Gideon was 18 months old, I was certain he had autism.  

"Oh, he's just quiet," people would tell me.

"He's fine. Just give him time," they'd say.

"He's nothing like Daniel," they'd point out.

Gideon is nothing like Daniel.

There's a saying, "If you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism."  Autism is a spectrum disorder and, as such, some people are just brushed with autism and some people are severally affected.  Some people are verbal and some are non-verbal.  Some respond well to therapy and some do not.

This includes the two boys in my home.

While Daniel has always had words, Gideon has very few.  While Daniel is easy to motivate and reinforce positive behaviors, Gideon is almost impossible to motivate. Daniel has been able to function in a general education classroom with support, Gideon will likely be placed in a special autism program when he starts school next year.

Gideon was officially diagnosed a few months after he turned two.  His initial evaluation indicated that by the time he was five, with therapy, many of his "symptoms" would disappear.  That's not what's happened though. Instead, we've watched him settle into a world of his own.  He enjoys being there and it's very, very hard to pull him out of it.  Even the therapists that have worked with him for years struggle to find just what motivates him enough to get a response.  If we find something he likes, he's bored after a couple of days and we're back to square one again.

Progress is slow, really, really slow.  Sometimes it doesn't feel like it's happening at all.

A couple of weeks ago I sat down with his case manager at his therapy center and was prepared to hear the worst.  Then I discovered that Gideon knows pages of sight words, reads books (and memorizes them quickly), and is mastering a reading comprehension program that involves him reading an action on a card and then performing the action.

I'm his mom and I didn't know he could do all that.  I hate that I underestimated him like other people underestimate him.  But then sometimes I think Gideon likes it that way.

Gideon is also a master strategist.  When he decides he wants something, he plots and sneaks until he gets it.  Not much gets in his way and his stealth is impressive (especially for a big guy like him).  I have to hide all the sweet treats in our house and I'm careful to do it when he's not looking.  But just yesterday, he saw me put a half full bag of chocolate chips in the cupboard above the stove.  Guess where I found him 30 minutes later? Standing on the counter, covered in chocolate.

The sensory processing disorder is very strong with this one.  He is constantly sensory seeking.  Everything (Every. Thing.) goes in his mouth.  He loves a good mud bath, bouncing on the trampoline, playing in water for hours, and shaving cream, when he can get his hands on it.  He also loves strong hugs and squeezes or a rub on the back.  When he sits with me on the couch, he's practically on top of me.

I worry about Gideon constantly.  Not only do I worry about protecting him from himself  (he has earned the nickname "Trouble" the hard way around here),  but I am most worried about his future.  Because one day, Gideon will be all grown up and one day, I won't be here to watch out for him.  I worry about him starting school and no one realizing he can read (even though I've told them).  He's an easy kid to label and that breaks my heart.

I also worry that I've not done enough to help him.  I've not found the right therapy, the right app for the iPad, the right something that will make things click for him.  What if nothing ever clicks for him?  What if he never talks to express himself?  How will I give him a voice?

It's so hard to not get discouraged.

But then I see that Gideon's voice is subtle.  It takes careful observation to see what's going on inside that mind of his.  Some times, every now and then, he'll make it easy for us.


Once, just after he turned five, I was making dinner.  Gideon sat at the table eating some pretzels.  Before long, I heard him softly saying something under his breath.  When I got closer, I found this:

He'd carefully broken his pretzels into letters which he was busy naming aloud.

About a year ago, I asked him to sing a song for me and he surprised me by doing it. His sweet little voice melted my heart (pretend I'm not there):

These glimpses I get every now and then remind me to not stay discouraged.  Maybe he'll never talk as much as we hope, maybe he'll always need constant supervision but these sweet moments let me know that Gideon is there, I just have to look for him.