2012 asd log: entry 1

April is Autism Awareness Month. To me personally it seems a bit cruel to start off such a month on "April Fool's Day", it feels almost as if life and the world are making a mockery of my life. "Here's your beautiful baby girl", "born 4weeks early but perfectly healthy and in no way considered premature", "nothing's wrong with her at all, well done mom" that's what they said to me the day Ginny was born. Doctors, nurses, midwifes, the lot, "well done mom, you did a great job" but did I really?

They say not to blame yourself for your child's disbility but how the hell are you meant to do that as a mother? After all everything she is is the way my body put her together. The connections in her brain that don't click were grown by me. That beautiful face and incredibly physically able body were what I created just the way I grew her brain. A brain that keeps her prisoner. How can that not be my fault?

Here's a beautiful baby girl, she's perfectly normal, well done mom. If her body had been crippled I would have known from the start. If she had downs someone would have told me just as they would of if there were some other detectable defect. They would've warned me. Instead I took home my little treasure, genuinely proud of myself. I doted on her and dreamt up all the things we would do together and for a very long time they seemed as if they would all come true.

18months later my child regressed... well done mom, oh wait April fool!! you did this to her, her frustration and suffering, yea that was all you. and guess what we couldn't find a single thing wrong with her then but she may never ever live an independant life. All those dreams we thought we'd let you accumulate were so we could smash them after a long and tedious diagnosis process.

2 1/2 yrs passed before we'd write it up and hand over our diagnosis. Your child is on the Autistic Spectrum and guess what, she's a 57/60 classifing her as severely Autistic. We won't give her speech therapy because her loss of speech was obviously caused by her autism but in a year or two you can send her to a special school. She will never go to mainstream. Now here's a bloody month where people will wear puzzle pieces and blue to raise awareness for your kid and the load of others affected by her conditon but unless those people are directly affected by someone with the condition they will never know what it's like. Hell, you won't ever know what it's like to stuck inside your daughter's head, you just know what it's like to have to care for her. Aren't you selfish?

That's what it feels like starting out on the 1st of April. Like being laughed at or a kick in the face and I can only pray that people will take our situation seriously. I can only pray that by reading my entries people may stop and think twice when they see a kid that doesnt respond stood in an alley way and maybe wait nearby and make sure they dont run into oncoming traffic before a parent shows up because maybe that child is on the spectrum and an escape artist. Maybe that child is like my Ginny and for every person who just left her on her own while I was running around looking for her bawling my eyes out, screaming her name, knowing she wouldnt respond to it maybe there will be that one voice I hear in the distance screaming back "she's okay, we've found her".

That one person that may have saved her life before our home became a prison. Before locks on every window, locking and relocking both our front and back door by key after every use, bolted in bookcases and display cabinets so she can't bring them down on herself, specially made locks for every individual door in our house and minimizing her room to pretty much just a bed to keep her from pulling out alll of the clothes and toys from the drawers and flipping furniture through the night despite being medicated for sleep... all of those manmade safety precautions that would become part of our day to day minute to minute lives that still can not compare to the place my little girl is locked away, stuck in a fog she struggles to see through every second of her life.

No posterboards, tee shirts or cutesy slogans will take away her condition, they wont make her daily or mine any easier to manage but one person becoming aware and tolerant of individuals affected by her condition might. You might. You could make a difference by opening your eyes and teaching your own children one day to be tolerant of others affected by ASD. You could make being the parent of a child with Autism easier to manage but not rolling your eyes or making snide remarks when one of our children are having a meltdown because of over or under stimulation from the world around them and I hope you will.

April 1st 2012:
Normally Ginny would be up at 7am the latest having breakfast and watching tv on a Sunday morning but she woke up two nights ago in the night and threw up all over herself, cried a minute and went back to sleep. In the middle of the night, after my husband and I had gone to bed she woke up again and continued to be sick all over herself but as we were upstairs we heard her and went into her room, changed all her bedding, washed the walls and bedframe and bathed her. A neurotypical 5yr old would not have just gone back to sleep in her own sick, she would have come out of her room and got you but Ginny is not nuerotypical. So on this Sunday Ginny is still in bed with a tummybug, she hasn't eaten in two days and barely drunk but my washing machine has been nonstop and today she doesn't want to get out of bed.

I brought her up some dry cereal and diluted juice and she drunk and ate it. What a relief. She didnt ask for anything as she doesnt speak but I went through the motions of trail and error as you must when a nonverbal child cries. This time her nappy didnt just need changing she was hungry and thirsty too. It was nearly one in the afternoon before Ginny decided she wanted to get out of bed. She hadnt thrown up all day but her bottom had taken over with going in overload. I'd never imagined I'd have to change diapers for Ginny this long but now I know she may never be potty trained like her little sister. Training her sister was hard enough because she couldn't understand why she was expected to use the toilet while her big sister continued to be changed, thankfully she got over it and was fully trained before the age of three.

Ginny is definitely on the mend. She's moving around and eating but still unwell. She played in the garden a short while before coming into the conservatory for a cuddle and more meds to bring her fever down. Besides my washing still going non stop, the various outfit changes and knowing I've probably used more nappies in the day then I normally would have in a week today has been a quite and calm day. Lots of mess, meaning more clean up for me but that's expected with poorly children. Granted, we probably stock more washing powder, and cleaning supplies than a normal family and we have a stack of boxes my height delivered by our supplier every couple of months of diapers but I don't really think about those things anymore.

Nope Sunday has all in all been noneventful on the autism front but that's from a person who has got used to the diaper changes, feeding a five year old all her meals, washing/ dressing her and guessing what she's feeling, wants and needs. Ginny went to bed like a little angel on the 1st of April but was up crying most of the night with some kind of ache she couldnt tell us about.

Five Years Old

As a parent your number one job is to never give up on your child and to be there for them in anyway you possibly can. You expect the first year to be exhausting. There are the wake up calls throughout the night, the feeds roughly every 3hrs, the diaper changes, the mobility issues, the inability to communicate their needs, washing, bathing, dressing, absolutely every task up to you. Your child is dependent of you in every way but throughout that year you receive the payback of watching them learn their names, roll over, sit up and eventually crawl. You see all of your hard work pay off and think "my child is growing up too fast".

At age two you expect different causes for exhaustion, your child hopefully becomes mobile, hopefully develops languages and can begin potty training, learns to feed themselves, but then there are the infamous terrible 2s. "my child won't be quiet for just a second", " my child won't sit still", " my child wants me to go to the potty with her/him every time she/he goes", "my child expects me to clap after every mouthful she/he feeds himself"; so many times we complain once we get past the triumph of their achievements and they fade to become just another hassle in our life. Independence seems to be more tiresome than we'd imagined.

By three however you hope they've mastered these tasks, they become less needy of constant acknowledgment and incredibly proud of how well they can manage without you. They want to do everything themselves now, they wash their hands, take over parts of the bathing process, dress and undress themselves. They have more friends than we do. These little people have come such a long way from the baby you brought home from the hospital and maybe you decide to have another or perhaps you are expecting a new arrival shortly. All in all at age three the number one complaint I hear is "she/he isn't a baby anymore, he/she just doesn't need me anymore", we of course know that that is not the case but it becomes our newest complaint.

The time flies by and their personality continues to develop. This little person has a mind of her/his own and the friendships that may have developed from playing on the playmat to expecting their little friend at every activity become proper friendship. The dependent nature of a two year evolves and these three yr old children no longer have to be around each other constantly to consider themselves friends, and by four they may have decided they do not wish to friends because Josh would wants to dance while Terry likes playing football, or Sarah much prefers her music classes to Jessica's art ones. Accepting their altered friendships becomes something new for us to stress over as now the friendships we've made with other parents have been altered but we get on with it because it's our job.

At five years old we cry as they put on a brave face and go off to big school. Many may bypass this stage if their child attended preschool although proper school usually is enough to make any mother shed a tear and every daughter's father's heart tighten. "they really don't need us like they used to" becomes the most difficult idea to digest. It sets off pangs parents didn't expect until teenage years that have just been waiting to creep up on us. It changes parents...I've listened to these complaints for years, I've watched the genuine concern, exhaustion, pain, and would have probably been every bit as guilty of everyone of the selfish complaints they've all fed me if things were different. I can already see myself lacking deserved praise try near three year old justly deserves.

The last five years have not followed this script as it won't have for so many others. At 18months into the life of my first born my world changed completely. Little worries that something just wasn't the way it should be became prevalently just. Yet for a year a part of me still hoped I was wrong while the rest of me fell apart at the realization that nothing I could've done would have made things different. Nothing was going to be the way I'd imagined it would and that I was going to sit and watch so so many people undervalue the achievements I longed my first born would one day accomplish. I was going to sit and have my heart smashed to pieces everyday while everyday someone would take the little things for granted.

As a parent your number one job is to never give up on your child and to be there for them in anyway you possibly can. Being there for my not-so-little-anymore girl that means still guessing what my daughter needs because she can not tell me, sign or picture exchange even after two years at a specialist school; it means dressing and undressing her, picking out her clothing, tying her shoes, bathing and washing her, changing her diapers, feeding her, brushing her teeth. It means a hell of a lot more laundry then most because she is doubly incontinent. It means sleepless nights despite medication and challenging behaviors so many parents are lucky they'll never have to even imagine. It means kissing any security deposit goodbye because she just can't help herself, having my hair pulled out, occasional bites, scratches and constant bruises on my arms and legs.

It means some some summers when it's hot and I wear shorts and a tank top people think my husband beats me because no one could ever imagine a 3, 4,or 5yr old causing the injuries I seem to have inflicted by someone who quite clearly posses a load of strength.It means inventing your own unconventional gift lists for birthdays and christmas, and my heart breaking because she has no real friends of her own and constantly rejects the affection her little sister tries to give her.It means talking to her even though I don't know if she can understand or hear me. It means dealing with staring and using every bit of strength in my body to keep from busting some ignorant bastards head in on a near daily basis, and finding somewhere to sit and cry it out every day to be able to manage the number one task of never giving up. It means that I always feel guilty for not doing more even though I am giving her everything I have to give.

If you look at Ginny you will see an  achingly beautiful, playful little girl with a smile that could light a pitch black alleyway. If you look a little longer something will start to seem off. She won't act the way she looks, she won't seem normal anymore and your eyes will look again and again searching for a physical defect to defend her, to make things easier on you(not her) so you can say "aw bless her she's disabled" but you won't any physical reinforcement for what you already know but brush off as a naughty child because you cant find the "proof" you need to accept it. Its not your fault, its the way you've been programmed from birth and if you're life has not been touched by her invisible disability or you haven't studied or worked around it than you are just one of the many who know nothing about it or only as much as the television has told you.

Once you hear her diagnosis out loud you will make stupid comments because of lack of knowledge but it's not your fault and I don't aim to belittle you by mentioning it, just like every other parent of a child with this condition I want to help make people aware of the truths and generalizations about it.The way her doctor put it a child can go from seeming completely normal, playing, talking, doing everything a neurotypical child would do and then regress, and because of the severity of my child's condition she finds herself lost in a fog where perhaps the little girl that used to speak, play, dance, and sing is lost. This idea pains me the most. The idea that she may be stuck inside of herself and unable to skim the surface. It seems so wrong that any child should be lost in such a way and every day I wish I could swap places with her so she could live her life outside of her little head and I could be the one trapped.

My daughter was in no accident, she was just born wired differently and one day it's like a connection snapped her connection to my world was lost. We don't give up though. Not a day passes where we don't hope, wish, dream and pray that she'll find her way back to us and in this, her fifth year we've seen progress. With the new accomplishments time bring unfortunately new challenges do arise. Ginny gets taller, stronger, harder to manage. The little things she does evolve and suddenly you don't have a little girl who will eat a pencil if left unattended for a minute but one that will make a hole in the wall eating it as she goes along. You get a child that no longer needs to climb because she can reach the top of all counter tops so now climbs to get into upper cabinets. This last year we have had to find new locks for all our doors, ones that are worked from just over the door so she can not reach them. Safety gates have had to be removed because she could get over them too easily and now even our enclosed garden is no longer a safe place as she has managed a way over our 6ft fence to climb out.

Many people find they have an elephant in the corner that causes stress in their household but at ours he fills it and we spend most of our days trying to squeeze past him to move around. His name isn't "wetting the bed", "fussy eater", "redundancy" or "baby weight I've not shifted", our elephant's name is Autism and he is always going to be there. He might grown leaner one day but for now he keeps us all just trying to find a way to live our lives despite the lack of space for ourselves with him around but we manage. Somedays barely, but we do, always keeping to our number one job and parenting as best we can.

Ginny Bean 2011

First and foremost I would like to thank everyone who took a minute to read last year's autism awareness note "My Little Ginny Bean". It may have seemed to most as nothing but showing your support by sparing a few minutes of your day instead of playing fb games or chatting to friends to see what life is like for Ginny and my family was a step towards raising awareness about autism so Thank you all.

Because of all the people who showed their support, I have decided to make my notes for autism awareness day annual entries and fill everyone in on the progress or lack of progress in the year since the last post. Hopefully This note will get as many reads as the last and make Autism a little more real for those of you who are not directly affected by the condition...

Some days I look at Ginny and I don't know what to think or feel. Right now she is pacing back and forth in our living room , stomping her feet as she stares at her rigidly moving fingers whilst flapping both arms and making random noises. She moves her face awkwardly and strains as if this act of stimming is taking a lot of effort. Her flaps become more intense and she spreads her fingers as far as she physically can and stops periodically to take a look at the television. Sometimes I find it cute, somtimes it annoys me but on days like today when I really have a think about Ginny and her condition it just makes me want to cry.

When you're expecting a child, especially your first you build up so many hopes and dreams for that littlle expected treasure. I can tell you right now no one thinks up or hopes Autism, the idea of it probably doesnt even cross most pepople's minds at all. When they're born, your heart fills up with so much love for them and all those hopes and dreams seem so much more attainable...I had so many plans. I'd mapped out the first few year's of Ginny's life to the T from what age she'd be started on what sports to, birthday party plans and what movies we'd watch together.
I said no one hopes for Autism but I definitely think mums know. I don't know how, they just do. I was sitting playing with Ginny on my mom's bed, watching how she never glanced at the television dispite my mom putting on a children's channel and continued to fiddle w a box in hand whilst completely ignoring the new toy I'd removed from it. That second I thought, "holy shit, my Ginny Bean is Autistic!". I couldn't say it aloud at that point and immediately shrugged it off as soon as she smiled at me and grabbed my face. I know having taken a few psych courses made it easier for me to pick up but Im sure others would have felt something was just wrong.

Months passed. Still no interest in the telly. Still not playing with toys appropriately. Still that gut feeling requiring constant brushing off. There was speech now, dancing now, singing now, play, and so much interaction. It just couldn't be autism, I was being daft and ignorant. At least that's what I felt like at the time. Whenever I asked anyone if they thought something was wrong with Ginny they told me I was crazy, they told me she was awesome! She was awesome! And they were right, it must've all been in my head, mustn't it?

You tell yourself something enough and you'll start to believe it. I did. Nothing was wrong. She was doing so much other kids her age couldn't she must've been gifted like me. And she was just so beautiful. then Dora Happened. Ginny's first obsession and TV interest, Dora the Explorer. Ginny loved her! She liked a character and it made her seem so much more "normal"...Everyone loved Ginny. It was impossible not to. She was the cuddliest, cutest, sweetest little mischeif in all the world. No one could compare... Then it happened. Everything stopped. The singing, the dancing, the playing, the copying, the words, it all went. Not all at once but it did all go.

No one could say there was nothing wrong anymore. Some insisted but I knew they were wrong now. They were wrong and I was right. I always had been and them denying that there was something couldn't stop me from having known all along. Of course it couldn't be autism. Everyone was so sure that how couldnt I be sure too?...Ginny did not have autism.

Many months later, at 2 1/2yrs old Ginny was given a diagnosis of Autistic Spectrum Disorder. By age three she was placed as a 57/60 on the Childhood Autism Rating Scale classifiying her as severely autistic...I spent YEARS depressed, my pregnancy was so difficult. Getting up every morning was so difficult. Cleaning, cooking, dressing, everything, it all just felt so impossible. That diagnosis helped though. I wasn't crazy. I was right. Ginny was going to finally get some help.

Unfortunatly there is not much that can be done. There was/is no quick fix. At least Ginny was going to get into a special school with all of the support she needs. That definately helped...the diagnosis woke me up from the haze I'd felt I'd drifted in forever and her school placement let me breathe again. It gave me that energy and spark I'd lost but it didn't give me my Ginny back.

I've tried dietary therapy removing gluten from her already dairyfree diet and it helped her feel. Ginny is hyposensitive so when she virtually has a limitless threshold for pain. Not a good thing when mixed with no sense of self preservation or fear. When we removed gluten she stopped bumping into things as much and her belly got a bit better.

Next we removed Soya and Maize, now her belly was much better. Her red blotches were gone and her belly was no longer bloated up like a malnourshied child. Sticking to her diet was/is hard. She is forever scavenging for foods she shouldn't have. The way her pediatrition puts it they are second class allergies. They don't show in the bloods but the affects speak from themselves.

We've tried other forms of biomedical therapy as well. Supplemental showed a bit of promise. SGinny has various supplements she takes on a daily basis throughout the day. Since starting on these supplements we've noticed loads. She listens more. Her eyecontact is better. She sleeps better, bedtime is not as much of a battle. Lots of little things. No one in the world outside of Autism would even notice but for us they were so Significant! They gave me a bit of hope but at times I feel like it may be a false sense of hope.

I saw a comedian last night on tv saying that every parent worries when there child doesnt speak or walk by the time they expect it but that it will eventually happen cause you don't see people who don't speak or walk in the real world. His real world must be far far from mine. Ginny never speaking or being able to take care of herself is always a plausable future in my world.

Ginny will be 5 in August. She should be in dance classes, soccer, music, gymnastics. Everything I'd dreamed up. She should be making up stories, helping me cook, picking out what she wants to wear, feeding herself, chatting away at me until I feel like my ears are going to bleed. Dreaming about what she wants to be when she grows up. Doing all the things little girls in Michael Macentire's real world.
That's not our real world.

Ginny still needs to be fed. Ginny still needs to be changed. Ginny still needs to be dressed. Ginny still needs to be washed. Ginny still needs to be watched at all times. Ginny may always need these things done for her. That is my real world. A world where all the hopes and dreams I had for her have changed drastically so much so that they are beyond recognition. Most people hoe their kids will get good grades, behave themselves, have lots of friends, get a degree and be successful adults. I just want Ginny to speak to me. I want her to be able to use a toilet. To feed herself her dinner, pick out what she wants to wear. To know eating rocks is not a good idea and that jumping in a river that's mostly frozen is a bad idea.

I want there to be a future for her outside of her head. Her school asures me that she's doing great. That she shows progress. Some days I am so happy to hear that, other days it's hard to believe...you might not see Ginny turning to her name being called, sitting down when instructed to, giving me her feet for her shoes and putting her arms through her top and coat for me as anything to celebrate but for my family these are major acheivements. They are progress. they are hope.

Safety is still our number one concern. Ginny is now able to climb over safety gates, banisters, onto counter tops and the stove. Ginny can in under two minutes, turn on all the burners to my stove, the ove, washing machine, open my fridge and freezer and turn the taps on in the sink. Getting bigger is making her so much more difficult to manage. Pretty soon we will need locks on all our doors secured by codes. When we have our own house it will be completely modified for her saftey. Everyday is a short step from a heart attack and I'm not even 25.

One of the hardest parts of everyday for me is watching how much Melody just wants to play, hug and love her big sister. She thinks Ginny is the coolest person on the planet and wants nothing more to cuddle her and give her kisses. Ginny on the other hand just wants to be left alone. She runs away from her and pushes her away. She cries because she doesnt understand why Ginny cuddles mummy and daddy but not her. In the evenings I try to force some cuddle time so that she doesn't feel too unloved but I have to make sure I don't stress Ginny out too badly in the process.

Another thing is watching my two year old surpass Ginny's developmental abilities drastically. It's so hard to be happy for Melody and her acheivements when all I can feel is the injustice that Ginny can't progress with her ease. I love both of my little girls equally but it's so hard to know that Melody being nerotypical allows her to become so much closer to me then my first born. Melody is my star but Ginny is my angel. She's taught me so much about life and myself. She's made me a better person. She's opened my eyes to her world, my world, our world, the real world. And all without saying a word.

My Little Ginny Bean

Virginia was always a bit different, I could tell that no matter how many people told me I was crazy. She always seemed to have a world of her own away from ours.

Her development seemed normal enough to most people. She crawled, walked, laughed, blew kisses, had words, sung, danced, slept well, and did many things that other babies didn't; things that seemed so clever but now that I have a second child and now that I have been around more infants I can see were far from normal for a child of her age.

At 18 months old Ginny contracted MRSA, within 24 hrs of noticing what seemed like a mosquito bite had become a huge abscess on her lower back with irritation on most of her back. We went to the emergency room and after an 8 hr wait we were told it was MRSA, the abscess was drained and we were written a prescription for an antibiotic that would kill off the bacteria which we had filled as soon as possible. Ginny started screaming and throwing herself around in tantrums, she also developed a rash so soon after we were back in the hospital and switched onto a stronger antibiotic which they hoped she would react better to.

She had two more abscesses which were drained and Ginny followed the course of her new medication which had to be followed by yogurt because of how strong they were. She couldn't eat and lost loads of weight. She became very sad. She stopped singing, stopped dancing, stopped talking. She became very frustrated and withdrawn. She would cry because she just couldn't get the words out after trying and trying again so she just stopped trying. She started tiptoe walking and hand flapping. She started chewing everything.

We didn't have insurance. Her father lived in another state and for this that and the other reason I couldn't get her medicaid reinstated even though I was a full-time student/ single mom. It was hard. I watched my Ginny disappearing and everyday I tried and tried to bring her back. Some days were better than others. Some days were fantastic and others unbearable. I was losing myself, it was so hard to try to be a mom or anyone for that matter. There was no help out there, it seemed. I'd met James, we were engaged and we just had to deal with every day one at a time.

Ginny was happy again. She became accustom with her circumstances. She was okay with the way she was.

Everyone told me it couldn't be autism.

In the states it seemed like there was help whatsoever. We moved. We had to pay loads having to have Ginny seen as a private patient but at least there was a way through. It took months and months. We were constantly being passed from one professional to the next. There were so many assessments to be made before a final diagnosis could be reached.

We were given a pending diagnosis of Autistic Spectrum Disorder by our specialist paediatrician first. She had follow ups every three months which didn't really help.

Virginia was/is an escape artist. She'd figure out doors and remember how to get to her favourite places, parks, the green, stores, etc. We have to have locks on all of our windows and gates on all our doors. Ginny has no fear or sense of self preservation. When we go out without another adult Ginny has to stay in her pushchair. Ginny would happily jump out of a window, dance in traffic, walk on her own for miles, eat rocks, lay down in a parking lot, turn off candles with her hands, etc.

Ginny doesn't have friends. Her disability doesn't allow her to make friends. Ginny can not play with toys properly. She can't play games. She can't draw. She will stand in front of the tv when people are trying to watch it. She might hit or bite us when she gets too excited. She doesn't understand.

Ginny can't speak. Words don't make sense to her. She babels. She flaps her hands. She chews and eats random things. She has problems sleeping. She is constantly thirsty. she gets sick more often than other children. She has problems sleeping. She has problems with her bowels. We don't know when she will be able to be potty-trained. Ginny won't be going to a mainstream school.

Ginny can't make decisions. She can't decide between toys, snacks, drinks or activities so we have to make her decisions for her. She can not dress herself. She can not wash herself. She can't even wash her hands. She can not feed herself meals.

We need to dress her. We need to change her. We need to wash her. We need to feed her. We need to watch her at all times.

Virginia is my first daughter. I love her more than words can express. Life with her can be more difficult than that of a "normal" child. She can drive me crazy. She tires me out.

Ginny's smile can light up a room. She's beautiful. She's a cheeky monkey. She makes me laugh. She makes me happy.

The Autistic Team came in to make another assessment, they needed to score Ginny on the Childhood Autism Rating Scale (CARS). They needed to add up points after asking questions so they could show us how severely autistic Virginia is. They didn't need their point system to know how autistic Ginny was, they needed it to make it known to other. Ginny is dealt with by 8 different professionals and has yet to start at a school for the severely learning disabled but will be doing so in the near future.

Total CARS scores range from a fifteen to 60, with a minimum score of thirty serving as the cutoff for a diagnosis of autism on the mild end of the autistic spectrum. Virginia scored a 57. Virginia is severely autistic. Virginia is special. Virginia is the reason I can deal with her diagnosis. Everyday her smile makes me waking up in the morning possible. I wouldn't trade her for anything else in the world but I do hope that with time she finds her autism less debilitating.

Autism is a complex developmental disability that typically appears during the first three years of life and is the result of a neurological disorder that affects the normal functioning of the brain. Nobody knows what causes it. Virginia has always been autistic. Autism is a lifelong developmental disability that affects the way a person communicates and relates to people around them. People with autism have difficulties with everyday social interaction. Ginny will always be autistic but i hope that with all the work we all put into helping her she will find everyday a bit easier and know how much she is loved.