If the doctors only knew what killed Luke’s twin, then the mystery of Luke’s “autism” would be solved.
Hello dear readers. A quick recap from my last post: Luke was born six weeks premature via emergency C-section when his twin developed a bleed in his brain. Luke had a hole in his heart, and required the use of a ventilator to breathe for him, but his twin bore the brunt of whatever harmed them. He had a grade-four bleed in his brain, his large intestine was closed so that no food would be able to pass through his tiny body, he had two holes in his heart, making him a blue baby, and he weighed a paltry two pounds. The doctors gave him little hope for survival, so we did the only compassionate thing and let him go. He died peacefully in my arms.
When I asked the doctors what happened, I was met with baffled shrugs. They told me that the part of the placenta that nurtured him was in shreds. They thought that maybe I had passed a virus onto him, but he tested negative for it.
What harmed my babies? It would take years before I would stumble upon the cause.
Meanwhile, Luke had his first vaccine while he was still on the ventilator fighting for his life. We were able to bring him home the day of his twin’s funeral. But he was of little solace. He did not babble and coo like other babies. He was quiet, and would stare into space for hours. He avoided eye contact with us, and his little body would become rigid whenever we tried to cuddle him.
Luke was born weighing four pounds, and had trouble gaining weight. His pediatrician declared him a failure-to-thrive baby, and frantically force-fed him high-calorie formula. Soon afterwards, the allergies kicked in. He sniffled constantly, clear drainage leaked from his nose, and his little ears stayed infected. His doctor prescribed him one antibiotic after another, all to no avail. Nothing seemed to clear his ear infections.
He stopped sleeping, instead mewling deep into the night, which drove me into a sleep-deprived psychosis. As ashamed as I am to say this, I had to awaken my husband one night and thrust Luke into his arms. I told him that I was about to hurt our baby if he didn’t take him and let me sleep.
Luke turned three years old, and still did not talk. At all. Not even a “mommy” or a “daddy” escaped his lips. The doctors placed tubes in his ears, or bilateral myringotomy, with the rationale that the tubes would drain his ears so that he would be able to hear better, and thus, start talking. He had his hearing tested shortly after the tubes were placed in his ears, and the doctors said his hearing was normal.
His hyperactivity had escalated until he was a whirling dervish. I had to carry him everywhere; if I let him down for one second, he’d be off and running. My family frowned upon my lack of parental skills, and made it clearly known that I was a bad mom, but I was too exhausted to worry about what they had to say about me, and about Luke.
Besides, I was too worried about what was looming on the horizon.
Stay tuned to find out what…
Latest posts by scarlett (see all)
- Calling All Employers - September 5, 2021
- Can Heavy Metals Cause Autism? - August 29, 2021
- Transitioning Towards Living Independently as an Autistic Adult - July 18, 2021
Very good, Scarlett! Well written, and the fact that you are putting this out there for other parents with autistic children is helpful, so that they know they’re not alone. Keep going!
thanks so much kathy! i feel it’s my calling in life to help other parents of autistic kids!