A milestone for Brian

This morning, Brian was determined to be ineligible for special education services. My heart is singing today.

My sweet middle child will be six years old in three weeks. Our special needs journey with him began on March 4, 2006, at the Federation for Children with Special Needs conference. I had attended because Abby was recently diagnosed with PDD-NOS, and wanted to learn all I could about supporting her.

In one breakout session, the two presenters were talking about their autistic children. I had some concerns about Brian; at 18 months old, approximately three months prior to the conference, it had seemed that he had stopped adding new words to his vocabulary. I wasn't sure, though; Abby had been so precocious in her language development that I didn't know if what I was seeing in Brian was more typical. But then, in that breakout session, one of the presenters mimed her young son looking at the wheels of a toy train as he played with it on the floor. I immediately started shaking, recognizing Brian's behavior with his toy cars.

I felt like I was in a horror movie, having the autism monster claim yet another one of my children. The anguish in my heart over what I perceived to be another tragedy for my family was too much to bear. I slid into a deep depression for several months, even contemplating suicide at one point. It was the absolute low point of my life.

Although I was in many ways functioning very poorly during this time, I did spring into action immediately on Brian's behalf. He was evaluated for Early Intervention services, and began a robust program of individual play therapy, speech therapy and music therapy. That summer, he began attending play groups at the Early Intervention site, and when he was formally diagnosed later that fall, he began receiving several hours of ABA services each week.

I have often said that Early Intervention saved Brian from a full autism diagnosis, and I still believe that, today. In particular, his primary EI therapist, the incomparable Tricia Carroll, brought his level of social, emotional and language functioning an incredible distance prior to his diagnosis, and continued to help him make rapid progress until he aged out of EI on his 3rd birthday. The other therapies were invaluable, but Tricia's understanding of ASDs and her ability to connect with Brian and bring him out of himself -- teaching him to make eye contact, helping him learn to play with his brother, challenging him in different play and learning situations -- was a the most influential factor in his development for the 15 months or so he was in EI.

At age 3, Brian then enrolled in the Milton Integrated Preschool, where he was fortunate to have Mary Beth Callahan as his teacher every morning and for double-sessions two days a week. He received speech and ABA services, and continued to grow and develop under her care. When he was four, Sarah Richardson was his teacher at the Integrated Preschool, and we also enrolled him in afternoon sessions at the Adams Street Early Learning Center, with Kathleen Corliss as his teacher. He continued to make progress, and we had high hopes for kindergarten, as well as a very robust IEP to help him make the transition.

Those hopes have been more than fulfilled this year. In Soondarie Barker's incredible kindergarten classroom, Brian has become indistinguishable from his peers, which has been our goal for the past four years. Looking at him, one would never guess that he carries an ASD diagnosis. He is social, he is engaging and he is age-appropriate in all observable ways, including his tendency to get in trouble now and then. Academically, he continues to work and test well above age level, and will require differentiated instruction to keep him challenged as he goes on to first grade.

I feel like Brian has graduated, and I am so proud. I am also eternally grateful to those individuals who have helped Brian, and us, over the past four years. You have built my little star-shooter's launch pad, suited him up and tested all flight systems. Now, the sky's the limit.