» Prologue Cont
Prologue Cont
Giant Steps Chapter Segments
Delivered naturally, without drugs or instruments, our son entered the world easily; a beautifully and well-formed little boy whose delicately chiseled features and doll-like appearance captivated all who crossed his path. Yet, in contrast to the serenity of that visual impression, he cried day and night for the first month after his birth, during which time he almost lost his life as the result of a severe ear infection, dehydration and other complications that resulted in his confinement in a pediatric intensive care unit.
Though Raun seemed to develop normally after this initial difficulty, by his first birthday we noticed a growing insensitivity to audio stimulus as he became less responsive to his name and other sounds. During the following two months, this behavior was compounded by his tendency to stare and be passive. He preferred solitary play rather than participating in our family activities. When we lifted him into our arms, he dangled limply. Our questions and visits to several pediatricians yielded little reaction, except vague assurance he would outgrow his peculiar manners.
Within the next two months, our son slipped behind an invisible, impenetrable wall, oblivious to all human contact. He occupied himself with a series of self-stimulating rituals; either rocking back and forth, hour after hour, or spinning every object in sight for periods sometimes lasting an entire day. He smiled at blank walls with little reference to the external world around him. His fingers moved repetitiously against his lips. He did not develop language ... no words, no pointing gestures. No expression of wants - never once indicating a desire for food or to be changed or to be lifted from his crib. Totally withdrawn. Totally self-stimulating.
At seventeen months of age, he was formally diagnosed as a classic case of autism, traditionally a sub-category of childhood schizophrenia, considered the most irreversible of the profoundly disturbed. Although others had reclassified autism as a brain-damage situation of indeterminate cause, they, too, viewed the dilemma as basically hopeless and irreversible. Even the literature supported their point.
And yet, despite those who would condemn him and extend their soft voices of sympathy, we saw in our son a very special and beautiful human being, with his own dignity and unique qualities.
Wanting more for him and ourselves, we began a journey around the country to observe and explore different alternatives. Most programs were little more than experiments. Whether dedicated to psychoanalysis, sensory conditioning or behavioral techniques, they reached only a few children in each one hundred. Their successes, ironically, meant the one or two youngsters who learned to function on a very primitive level. The overwhelming majority spent their lives in faceless institutions.
We encountered professionals who administered electric shock treatments with cattle prods on children under five because a doctor, teacher, or parent deemed their behavior unacceptable. Other boys and girls were enclosed in portable black closets, with no windows, as part of aversion therapy. Some were strapped to the backs of chairs to prevent them from rocking and flapping their arms.
The more we observed, the more polarized we became. Our entire lifestyle stood in dramatic contrast to even the most "humanistic" programs which, despite their avowed sensitivity, still approached these children with disapproval.
And so we trusted our own inclination and decided to create our own program based on the philosophy of Option and grounded in the attitude of "to love is to be happy with." We would approach our son without conditions to which he had to conform, without expectations which he had to fulfill, and most significantly, without judgments defining his actions as good or bad. Our awareness suggested that in terms of his present abilities, Raun, as all of us, was doing the best he could.
Rather than force him to conform or adapt to our world, rather than disapprove of him, we decided to join Raun in his world with love and acceptance, to understand and know his universe by participating. Working with him during his every waking hour (eighty hours each week), we began by imitating him on a global scale - not just a strategy or tactic, but sincerely being with him; rocking when he rocked, spinning when he spun, flapping when he flapped. Several doctors labeled our effort a tragic mistake since we supposedly supported our son's bad behavior. Yet for us, good and. bad had no useful meaning in our thrust to make contact with this very different little boy. All we wanted to do, initially, was to find a way to say: "Hey Raun, it's okay wherever you are. Hey, Raun, we love you."
As we continued observing and accepting his world, we lavished him with affection and caring while introducing gentle visual and auditory stimulation. We knew, if he would ever communicate or function in our world it would have to come from him. In effect, we wanted to create a world so easy, so loving, so responsive that he might find himself drawn to us and motivated to push beyond his obvious difficulties and dysfunctions. We included both our daughters, Bryn and Thea, as facilitators and loving mentors for their brother as well as training others as teacher-therapists, using the principles and attitude of Option as our tool.
