Trella, CJ & Orlando

Hello World,

This post is written by Trella Stringer Crawford.  Although we both attended the University of Georgia at the same time, we never met.  Actually, we “met” through a UGA social media Web site similar to Facebook and have become fast friends through our love of writing. 

Please read Trella’s poignant story about her journey into autism and of course, comment .

This is my truth: I am the mother of a child with autism.  Nine simple words; yet, these words encompass many emotions for me – pride, fear, disappointment, worry, confusion, joy, pain, and perseverance.  More importantly, these words remind me that God has chosen me to raise one of his special angels – not a role I might have selected but one I realize is God’s purpose for me.

You’ve probably seen the public service announcements with Toni Braxton or billboards and news stories about autism and wondered what autism is. According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke fact sheet, autism is a neurological and developmental disorder defined by difficulties with social interaction, verbal and nonverbal communication problems, repetitive behaviors and narrow, obsessive interests.  This disorder affects one in 150 children and seems to affect boys four times more than girls. 

My journey into autism began on January 31,^, 2005.  After eight years of marriage, my husband and I were blessed with the arrival of Orlando Augustus Crawford, IV.  It was such a regal sounding name for a little baby, according to the neonatologist. We thought so, too, and decreed that CJ was a more appropriate moniker to distinguish him from all the other Orlandos in the family. Our little boy was perfect and healthy in every way; however, he spent seven days in the neonatal intensive care unit because he had a neonatal seizure. Still, he seemed to flourish and thrive after that, meeting all of his milestones well ahead of schedule.  He walked at ten months old and could use a spoon by the time he was a year old.  

However, I noticed that while my son was thriving in many areas, he still was not talking.  I also noticed that he was not responding when his name was called.  By the time CJ was 15 months, I began to realize that something was not right. I mentioned this to his pediatrician at his checkup, and she felt that he was just a late bloomer with language.  Still, my motherly instincts had kicked in, and I knew that something was going on with my child. We had his hearing checked and everything came back all clear.  Then, I started to notice other things like CJ biting himself or having violent, inconsolable temper tantrums.  He also had a fascination with eating non-food items (called pica).  

As my son was going into the “Terrible Twos,” I rationalized his behavior.  Still, restlessness in my soul persisted. I felt like God was trying to tell me something.  However, as anyone will attest who has ever heard my testimony, I don’t always listen to God’s subtle hints, and He often has to give me the in-your-face treatment.  Every time I drove I kept seeing billboards with AUTISM splashed on them, proclaiming “1 in 166” (it’s now 1 in 150) children. These billboards leapt out at me in brilliant and bold colors.  Every time I turned on the television, there were the autism PSAs.   Finally, I asked out loud, “Lord, what are you trying to tell me?”

I began researching online and found an autism symptom checklist. As I perused the checklist, I felt like I was reading about my own child.   My whole world shifted.  I had only voiced my suspicions to my mother at this point and didn’t have a name for what was wrong with my child.  All I could tell her was that I thought CJ was “special.”  I knew that I needed to approach my husband with my concerns but didn’t know how to tell him that I suspected our only child-the son named after him, his father, and his father’s father- had a disorder that I was only aware of because of the movie, Rain Man.  As expected, my husband did not initially react well to my suspicions.  After he thought about what I said, though, my husband listened to my concerns. 

However, it wasn’t until CJ was 32 months old (17 months since I first noticed differences in my child) that we even mentioned anything about getting CJ screened for autism.  My husband took CJ in for a sinus infection, and I insisted that my husband ask his pediatrician for an autism screening.   She referred us to our state’s Early Intervention program and that’s when things began to happen quickly. 

CJ

On December 4, 2007, a day I will never forget, our son was officially diagnosed with autism.  I was relieved because I finally had a name for what was plaguing my child. I also felt profound grief and loss.  I grieved for the typical child I’d never have. I grieved for the loss of all of the hopes and dreams I had for him.  I grieved for the struggles and challenges that I knew were ahead for our family. 

I would love to say that I turned to my faith in God and His ability to carry me through the storm. Instead, I was angry, hurt, and devastated. I remember ranting at God and asking him, “Why?”  I tried bargaining with God to make my child “normal.”  There were even times when I prayed for forgiveness because I felt like CJ’s condition was punishment for some past sin. 

One night, after an especially rough night with CJ (erratic sleep patterns and bedtime tantrums happen often), I was at my wits end.  I was exhausted, and I felt like I had no way out.  I was frustrated with myself because of my lack of patience in handling my child.  I remember thinking that I needed the patience of Job.  We all know the story of Job – the purest example of faith, obedience, patience, and redemption.  Job’s story is one of my favorite Bible stories; yet, I’ve occasionally and jokingly coined myself the “anti-Job” because of my lack of patience.  That night at 3- something in the morning, with tears in my eyes, I opened my Bible for the first time in over a year. I turned to the book of Job, and there was the epiphany.

Job lost everything but through it all, he continued to trust in God completely and wholly.   That’s what I needed to do — trust in God completely and wholly.  I needed to be patient that He was going to provide my CJ and us with everything we needed.  That night I gained a sense of purpose and shifted my thinking.  Instead of worrying about my child being “normal” to others, I began to focus on making the world “normal” for him. I stopped grieving for what I thought I had lost and began to appreciate the things that I had gained. Keeping this focus is an ongoing process, but when I feel discouraged, I turn to Job.

My child is now four years old and is in his second year of preschool. He has an amazing teacher who has a high success rate working with special needs children and particularly, autistic children.  That very same teacher introduced us to a wonderful woman named Jill who has experience working with autistic children and providing Applied Behavioral Analysis therapy.  CJ has been with Jill since October 2008, and the changes we’ve seen in our child have been exponential.  Upon reflection, I understand that my journey with CJ and this thing called autism has been carefully orchestrated by God to put the right people in our lives at the right place and the right time.   I also realize that God has allowed me to find my voice in advocacy.  I have quietly supported many causes over the years, but I’ve found my voice getting louder and stronger as I support an issue that is not just a cause for me but the reality of my life. 

This is my truth: I am the mother of a child with autism.  Nine simple words; yet, words I have come to accept and words of honor because God chose me as this child’s champion.

 For more information, go to www.autismspeaks.org.

Any thoughts?

Hello World!!!

Guess what y’all?! It’s my second installment of “Your Turn,” through which people with interesting insights and views post THEIR stories on my blog…I’ve had this post for over a month now and because of my busy schedule and good ole-fashioned procrastination, I neglected to get this post up…Sooo here goes…Calling all virgins out there? Can you hear me? Raise your hands if you are a virgin! I can’t see anybody of course as I’m sitting at my computer, but I imagine there are very few virgins out there past the age of 22 or so…And if you are a Christian and have been since you were a teenager, you are supposed to be one according to the Bible’s views on premarital sex…But as someone who grew up in the church and have known others who have grown up in the church, I know there are very few out there…

But I do know One…And on the condition of anonymity, I convinced him to share his views on being a virgin well into his adulthood…and for the record, he’s not an ogre…he’s actually quite handsome, but I will let him tell you all about it in his own words…

 She was a walking rap video, with proportions so ideal that they seemed surreal. A living and breathing fantasy, her slim waist, curvaceous hips and perfect planetary backside made me shake my head each time I looked her way…

“Concentrate on her eyes…,” I reminded myself as she lay beside me, attentively waiting for the announcement that I promised to make. “Uhhh,” I uttered as I cleared my throat.

“When…when I was 13 years old, that’s when I became a Christian…”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting my words.

“And…,” I continued. “Well, that’s when I made certain promises to GOD to not get high or drunk and to not have sex until I was married.”

She laughed. “I made those promises too…“

“Yeah,” I said as I looked her squarely in the eyes. “But I haven’t broken any of them.”

Silence.

“Wait, so you’re saying…Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

I was 30 years old then…I’ve had this conversation with so many women, both churchgoing and otherwise, and the reaction is always some kind of meltdown. It makes me reluctant to share it anymore. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about specifically identifying myself publicly as a virgin, but the older I get, the more it complicates my relationships with people. People who aren’t Christians don’t understand. But I wouldn’t expect them to..

Church folk, on the other hand,..well, they say they believe this is right. But let them find out you’re a virgin in his 30s and they act like something is wrong with you. They either act like you’re the guy from “The 40 Year Old Virgin” movie or you’re just a freak – like you can’t choose to not have sex. In their minds, only two options exist: You either have to be a lame or a misfit.

Virginity is, of course, a complicated issue. I understand that. But I know a few other Christian men who are virgins (older than I am), and they’ve stopped telling church folk altogether…

These days, I often let people think I’m a lothario, as that’s generally what they assume anyway because of my ease with women. The only people who know that I’m a virgin are the women I date –and even they don’t know right away.

And it’s all because of these crazy reactions…For a while, because women in the church were so averse to this news, I tried dating women who didn’t go to church…

I think of the girl who fell to her knees, naked, crying. “What’s wrong with you,” she said as the tears flowed. “Why won’t you $%*@ me?” Or the stripper who found that she was aroused by a “dominant virgin” fantasy when she found that out that she couldn’t punk me.

And then when I did date church women, the response wasn’t that much better…They said they agreed with me on this matter but attempted to tempt me by degrees: “We don’t have to do anything. Just take your pants off…”

I reflect upon these experiences: all the women I’ve loved, all the women I’ve tenderly kissed and all the women I’ve just “made out” with…And somehow, I wonder what it all means…What does it mean that these women have passed through my life? What does it mean that women have learned to equate their worth and sense of power with their ability to grant or deny sex?

At times, I feel very alone in this journey. Occasionally, I feel disappointed in GOD. I wanted to be married by now. I did not expect to be alienated by church folk for obeying what they taught me. And more than that, if GOD wanted me to preserve myself sexually, then why does sexual energy come so easily to me? Why do I love women’s bodies so much? Why do I know how to kiss a women’s neck, touch the small of her back or speak deeply into her ear in just the right way?

These things come naturally to me…All I can think is, because sex is such a driving force in my life, it means something to GOD that I’ve been able to sacrifice it to Him.

I love women’s bodies. I love how they look, how they feel pressed close to me and I really love the idea of sex.

But I love GOD more…

And yes, I’m tired of waiting…so what’s up with your homegirl?

Any thoughts?

AJ and Akosua on their wedding day...

Hello World!!!

As I said in a previous post, I am not the only one with something to say…And in an effort to recognize other interesting views, I have created the series, “Your Turn,” through which I post stories written by other people.  I am honored to present the first entry in this series. This story is written by Anthony “AJ” Joiner, a celebrity in the Atlanta area. And without further ado…

Last July, I announced I was leaving the radio to take care of a friend with cancer. It was a bit of a lie. I was the friend with cancer. Sorry for lying… but now I’m back! Cancer free and living my life like it’s golden.

And I want to share my story with you.

It was a beautiful, sunny Hotlanta day. The days that always remind me of Freaknic.

It. Was. Perfect.

On a visit to the doctor, I was told, “Mr. Joiner, we’ve found a strange mass in your throat. We’re going to have to run some tests…” You always know something is wrong when the nurse deflects and defers all of your questions with phrases like, “I don’t know Mr. Joiner, or you need to speak with your doctor.”

After being poked, prodded and violated by nurses, doctors and a strange, older women wearing stilettos – they broke the news to me. “Anthony, you have a cancerous mass in your throat and a brain tumor.”

Silence.

“That c-c-can’t be right. I don’t feel sick. As a matter of fact, I had a physical in March and they said everything looked perfect,” I pleaded. “They drew blood and the whole nine,” I continued. “I don’t smoke – I really don’t even know a lot of smokers.”

Another nurse entered the room and told me my brain scan was being looked at by a neurosurgeon and I would know whether it was malignant or benign in a few minutes. I stared at her coldly as she tried to remain upbeat and comfort me.

Suddenly, I had an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. It was the feeling of being on a roller coaster JUST as it reaches the peak of its climb. You are about to drop – fast, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I felt helpless and hopeless.

Fighting to hold back the tears from all of the emotions and thoughts that were running through my mind, I asked the nurse, “Am I going to die from this?”

She went into this diatribe about blah, blah, blah, medical advancements and blah, blah, blah, survival rates and eating right and exercise and blah, blah, blah….

I ignored her.

I struggled to come to grips with my new condition, and in what seemed to be a desperate act of self-preservation, I made a silent promise to myself. “I will beat this.”

The nurse, after leaving for a moment, came back in and told me the neurosurgeon looked at my scan and the brain tumor was benign – and I only needed a follow up appointment to run a few tests. I felt a little better – but not much.

The first two people I thought about now were my girlfriend and my mother. How could I break the news that I had cancer? Several scenarios crossed my mind. Maybe I would just not tell my mom. No need to worry her. How would my girlfriend react?

My girlfriend was in utter disbelief. She had all the same questions only from a concerned girlfriend perspective. Her response was, “We’ll make it through this baby.”

My mother took the news like any mother would. Shock first, acceptance, and then resolve. “Mama will be with you every step of the way baby,” she affirmed. “God will never put more on us than we can bear.” I later learned that it really hit her very hard, but I never saw anything but a praying, strong mother. I love that woman.

Surgery, chemo and radiation treatments followed in the next few months. These were the toughest five months of my life. I lost 53 pounds.  I lost the ability to speak above a whisper for about a month, and I felt as if no one could relate. At times, I would vomit for an hour. My girlfriend would try to get me to talk about how I felt, but it backfired. The drugs made me unresponsive, unattached and unemotional. She would say things like, “At least you only have a few more months, then it will all be behind you.” That would really piss me off. I felt like she was taking my sickness lightly. I would lose my temper and tell her not to say anything about it. At all.

I was afraid and a bit uncertain, and I did not know how to handle it. So I lashed out at her. The person closest to you always has it the roughest. One day things came to a head when I could no longer keep myself together. She held me in her arms as I came unraveled. I felt so lucky and blessed to have her there with me. I promised to try and communicate better with her and to talk about my feelings when I felt up to it.

In this struggle we learned that “being there” sometimes meant silence or space. Sometimes it meant only a smile. We learned to communicate through our own language since the radiation rendered me speechless for a while.  It was our love language. My cancer – though it was really tough – taught me a lesson about love and relationships. It took our friendship and love for each other to a place it had never been before. My sickness taught us to enjoy each day and to never take anything for granted – especially each other. It was in those months that she really went from my girlfriend to my forever. Through this ordeal, we learned that as long as we had each other, we could survive anything.

My friends and family were there in a huge way too. My mother was right – you find out who your real friends are when tragedy hits. I had friends who would call just to say, “Hi” and friends who would call and pray on the phone with me. Others would come by and sit with me or read to me. Some friends would offer me rides to and from the hospital when my girlfriend was at work and I couldn’t drive, and some would rub my back as I vomited. One friend in particular flew across the country just so she could sit with me through one of my eight-hour chemo treatments. I’m grateful for all of the e-mails, all of the calls, and all of the prayers and the drop-in visits.

I. Am. Blessed.

Cancer has taught me several things over the last year and a half:

1. It has taught me to let my loved ones know they are loved. Today.

2. It has taught me to never, ever take the small things for granted.

3. It has taught me to appreciate my strengths and work on my weaknesses.

4. It has taught me to value true friendships.

5. It has taught me gratitude.

6. It has taught me to view the glass as half full. Things could ALWAYS be worse.

7. It has taught me to accept grief and anger as necessary emotions.

8. It has taught me that everyone is beautiful in their own way.

9. It has taught me to recognize when I’m being petty and let it go.

10. It has taught me to live. Now.

At times it felt dark – but there was always a light to guide me to a safe place -my girlfriend, her family, my family, and our friends. I now know these are the true joys of life. I have just what I need – the basic important stuff.

I can truly say the last year and a half was a hell of a ride. A cancerous roller coaster ride.

But… I’ve always chosen the roller coaster over the Ferris wheel.

P.S. Men… GO TO THE DOCTOR. I know we try to be macho-manly men, but get yourself checked out regularly. That pain you’ve been ignoring will only get worse if you don’t get it checked out. The doctors still haven’t identified the source of my cancer; however, if I had gone to the doctor when I first noticed the “bump” on my neck (11 months earlier), I wouldn’t have had to go through such aggressive chemo and radiation treatments.

AJ was diagnosed with cancer in May 2006 when he was 33 years old. He has been cancer-free for three years. He proposed to his then girlfriend, Akosua, in November 2006, and they were married in September 2007. Aside from his 9-5 as an IT consultant,  AJ is also the creator of “The A Spot,” a movement through which AJ has developed a radio show, doled out relationship advice through an e-mail newsletter and promoted events. His current brainchild is First Thursdays at Django, a live music showcase. AJ is also an honorary chairman of the “Real Men Cook Atlanta,” which will be held on Sunday at the Georgia Railroad Depot from 3 to 6 p.m.

I “met” AJ through spam…at least that is how I first perceived it…He sends out e-blasts several times each week about events in the Atlanta area. However, at the end each e-mail is a personal message through which he emotes about various issues in his life. At first, I was like, “Who is this guy that keeps sending me e-mail without my permission?” But now, I look forward to his e-mail. We’ve never officially met, but I consider him my virtual friend. His story about his ordeal with cancer was at the end of one of his messages a while ago. I thought his story would be the perfect way to kick off this series, and he honored my request by submitting his story…it’s a wonderful story…Check AJ out at theaspot.com.

Any thoughts?