Never Underestimate The Little Things

Cristian as Baby Superman

I have a fond childhood memory getting haircuts from my father.  On Sunday mornings after church, while Mom made breakfast, and Abbott and Costello movies played in the background, Dad cut my brother Bob and my hair.  The long process usually resulted in a buzzcut — a crooked one — if we turned our heads or sneezed.

 A few years later, Dad became friends with a charming Italian man named Franco, when his family moved next door to us.  Dad helped Franco with household projects, and Franco, who was a barber, cut our hair — retiring Dad’s scissors once and for all.  The fee for these projects was a bottle of wine.

When my wife Esther and I became parents, I looked forward to a similar father/son bonding moment.  We’d get haircuts then go for a slice of pizza afterward.  We waited over a year for Cristian’s first haircut.  We weren’t lazy parents but his birthday is in October. Cristian’s size and long wavy hair made him a perfect Baby Superman for Halloween.

Cristian’s first haircut, before the tears started.

A week after Halloween, Franco came over for the long-awaited haircut.  It didn’t go well.  Although Esther did her best to distract the baby with her iPhone and his favorite toys, he squirmed, cried and screamed.  This concerned us, but Franco reassured us, telling us this was common for kids his age.

It wasn’t until Cristian was diagnosed as On the Spectrum, that we learned about the sensory issues autistic children experience.  They could be under-sensitive to pain, yet hyper-sensitive to clipping nails or haircuts.  Esther clips Cristian’s nails while he sleeps, and his feet still flinch involuntarily while clipping his toenails.  We found a solution for his nails — haircuts are another matter.

For Cristian, the vibration of metal clippers is like someone running their fingernails across a blackboard.  Franco no longer cuts Cristian’s hair, he became afraid of him and started crying whenever he’d visit.  Cristian’s haircuts are now a well-choreographed family project.  He sits in Mommy’s lap in the barber’s chair, while I stand on one side with the barber on the other.  Working quickly, I hold Cristian’s head or chest, as the barber cuts one side or the other, while keeping a watchful eye for a headbutt or a kick in the crotch.  He’s only five, but a well-placed kick still hurts.

We recently found a glimmer of hope.  A parent in a support group we attend recommended a barbershop in Whitestone catering to the autistic community.  During our first visit, Cristian’s barber told us, “Give me three haircuts, and you’ll see a difference.”  He was sensitive to Cristian’s specific needs and uses specially designed plastic clippers. 

His haircuts still haven’t gone smoothly, but they aren’t the traumatic ordeal they once were.  Considering where we started that’s progress.

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The Confessions of a Father of An Autistic Child

This is the face of an autism.

Hi, my name is Frank Priegue, I’m the father of an autistic child.  It felt good to write that.  This isn’t a deeply held secret, our family and friends are aware.  If you follow me on Instagram, I’ve included hashtags like #autism, #autismawareness, and #autismdads to my posts for over a year.  I’ve alluded to Cristian’s autism but never dedicated a post to this topic—until now.  This is Cristian’s official coming out as an autistic child.

Although greater awareness exists these days, few individuals without a relationship to someone on the spectrum know much about Autism Spectrum Disorder.  Before I became a parent, my only exposure came from the film Rainman.  I knew nothing of IEPs, Developmental Pediatricians, or District 75 schools.

Like many parents, I went through a stage of denial when Cristian was diagnosed.  My wife and I sat quietly with our mouths hanging open as we read the diagnosis.  How could our child be autistic?  He had a few eccentricities, which a specialist diagnose as sensory issues or developmental delays, but that doesn’t mean he’s autistic.  I convinced myself that autism is the flavor of the month diagnosis doctors are handing out in large numbers until the next one comes along.

Denial can be a potent concept.  You can justify anything if you repeat it enough—I know this because I did this with Cristian.  Esther and I are first-time parents of a delightful little boy.  He loves attention and admiration, rewarding those who played with him with a 1000-watt smile.  So when we noticed oddities, I easily justified them.

Cristian didn’t say his first words until well after a year, but so did I.  I didn’t speak until just before my second birthday.  I was a Stay at Home Dad for two years, working as a medical biller.  Cristian played with his toys or watched Sesame Street for a while I reviewed spreadsheets.  I kept convincing myself—he wasn’t receiving enough stimuli.

How can our child be autistic?

Cristian played by himself during story time at the local library and didn’t interact with the other kids during his My Gym class.  I thought it was odd he didn’t play with children he’s seen for several months.  The teachers told me many children less than a year old engaged in parallel play, so I didn’t think very much about it.  Cristian is an only child of older parents, we tried scheduling playdates with his cousins to socialize him, but they were 3 and 4 years older than him.

I was aware there were a few peculiarities making him different from other kids his age, but he was a healthy baby, his pediatrician assured of us this.  He scored high on the growth charts and he liked adults.  How could there be something wrong with him?

It became increasingly difficult to keep ignoring the obvious.  On a trip to Puerto Rico to introduce Cristian to the family did the differences become more apparent.  Esther noticed that he wasn’t exhibiting appropriate behavior for a year-old baby, as he played with cousins who were his age.

Despite Esther’s background as an early-intervention coordinator, I wasn’t totally convinced.  She was also a first-time mom, who worried if it was too hot or cold.  First-time moms worry about everything. It wasn’t until Cristian started rocking back and forth in his car seat with greater frequency or ran back and forth down the hallway in our home like he was running wind sprints that we decided to get him evaluated.

Being the parents of a special-needs child is challenging, but raising any child, is about meeting challenges when they arise, and giving the illusion that you have everything under control.  Don’t feel sorry for Cristian, he’s not feeling sorry for himself.  He’s a happy four-year old, who loves to run, play, and read books.  As his parents, all we ask for is patience, understanding and awareness.  Take the time to get to know him and be part of his world on his terms.  You might be surprised at what you see.

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