Stacie Sherman

I want to tell you the story of a beautiful little girl named Brielle.

Brielle was born on a February afternoon in 2002. She was full term, 7 pounds 13 ounces, a perfectly healthy bundle of joy who instantly brightened my world.

Brielle reached all her milestones like other babies — she sat up at six months, she stood at 10 months. She walked before she was a year old, and soon after she even started saying a few words.

And then one day, I came home from work, and opened the door to find Brielle sitting on the living room floor. I called out to her, and she didn’t turn to me like she normally did. I called again, still nothing. I got down on the floor, and I got in her face, and when she looked back at me, it was like she was looking, but not really seeing.

For many months to come, Brielle was in her own world. Her eyes seemed glazed, her movements slow and awkward. I’d find her sitting in a corner, fixated on a piece of string. She would sit there for an hour, passing the string from one hand to the other and then back again, over and over. Later I learned that was a behavior common in autism, they call it stimming, or self-stimulatory behavior.

Early one morning when Brielle was in what I consider the worst of her condition, I walked into her room.  She was in her crib and she didn’t look up, as she was fixated on something she grasped in the palms of her tiny hands. As I got closer I could see it was a clump of hair. Her own hair. Desperate to stim, Brielle had ripped the hair from her own head, which now had a huge bald spot.

Recalling that image is not easy. But it reminds me of how far Brielle has come.

I’m a journalist for a living, and I read a lot. If there’s a story or a study about autism out there, chances are I’ve seen it. If there’s a diet, or a vitamin, or a therapy out there that had good results on autistic kids, chances are I’ve tried it. Some have helped, some have not. There is no cure.

Today, Brielle is 9. She’s come out of her shell a lot. She waves when you walk in the room, gets excited when I come home from work. She has yet to speak. But she’s mostly happy.

Brielle loves swimming and the outdoors, being tickled and chased. She loves to bury her head in my neck when I’m holding her, and to crawl in my bed early in the morning and babble to me.

She has sleep issues, nervous habits like grinding her teeth and picking her skin and making strange sounds over and over again. She has a million sounds, I know most of them. One means I’m thirsty, another means I’m tired.

The roughest part for Brielle, and for many kids and adults with autism, is not being able to tell you what they want or need.  One of the best things I ever did for Brielle was get her out of the public school where they did not understand how to help her.

One of the first things Brielle’s new school did was get Brielle an electronic communication device that speaks for her when a button is pressed. Brielle picked it up like THAT. Instantly she was able to communicate better.

The school just keeps adding buttons and functions for Brielle’s device; she’s a wiz at it. They’re teaching her how to recognize words, and her name, and how to spell. The more she learns, the happier she is.

So why do I share this story? Because I am Brielle’s voice. I know she and others like her want you to understand that when she screams in a crowded restaurant, or throws herself down on the floor in the middle of the mall, they’re trying to tell people something that they cannot express with words. Imagine how frustrating that must be.

I used to get nasty looks or comments from people when Brielle would have one of her meltdowns in a mall or restaurant, and many times I would leave.  I don’t anymore. I think it sends a wrong message to Brielle, and to society.

People need to understand that autism is EVERYWHERE. If you don’t have a friend, or a family member, or a co-worker who has autism or who has a child with autism, chances are you will. God I hope you don’t. But if you do, I hope you are aware, and accepting, and supportive. We all need to be concerned about autism.