This is the fourth in a series of reports on local FEAT-of-Oregon families' experiences with autism. Please note that this report is not a FEAT endorsement of specific treatments: first, each child is different, and second, FEAT believes in relying on scientific research to judge the value of treatments.

Hannah (not her real name) was such a beautiful, cuddly baby that we never dreamed anything could be wrong. We did notice that she liked playing by herself, but we felt lucky that she "entertained herself", unlike her more-demanding siblings.

By Hannah’s second birthday, she had "lost" many of her words, and tantrummed at the slightest change or upset. We blamed her troubles on our recent cross-country move, certain that she would soon get back to normal.

But Hannah didn’t get back to normal. She learned a few new words, but continued to "lose" old ones. She used her few words to make demands, never to make conversation. She ignored most people, as if deaf—but hearing tests ruled this out. She did seem to like our hugs and kisses, but rarely returned them.

Shortly before Hannah turned three, we enrolled her in a self-contained TEACCH classroom, only to watch her fall even further behind. Now 4 years old, her language was not even that of a two-year-old, and she threw tantrums if we didn’t repeat certain words back to her. Just after her fourth birthday, a clinical psychologist diagnosed her with autism. The psychologist gently told us to expect Hannah to continue falling further and further behind. We were devastated--our child seemed forever lost to us. And when she started slapping herself, we could not bear to think what else the future might bring.

Some weeks later, I read Catherine Maurice’s "Let Me Hear Your Voice" and Lovaas’s research papers. Hope! We immediately stopped repeating Hannah’s words back to her. After two miserable days of nonstop crying, she finally gave up and accepted this change. We could only afford 10 hours per week of ABA through Project P.A.C.E., but we did another 2-4 hours ourselves every day, and worked constantly to keep her involved. Because Hannah loved "The Lion King", I must have danced with her to "Can You Feel the Love Tonight_" a hundred times, its question tugging at my heart.

We were afraid that we had started too late, but Hannah’s response to ABA was amazing. This year, at age 6, she attends morning kindergarten and afternoon daycare, all without aides or accommodations. Her language skills are in the normal range, she plays soccer on a recreational-league kindergarten team, and, best of all, she is even considered an "articulate, outgoing" child!

Is Hannah "recovered"_ She still has one hour of speech/language per week, and we continue to work on maintaining eye contact, eating a greater variety of foods, and observing social boundaries. However, she has friends, has no behavior problems, is reading and writing, and, most important, is happy and affectionate. I feel that we have found our "lost" child.

Sandra L. Harris, Ph.D.: Hannah’s story speaks to the importance of giving every child a chance for quality learning. I personally avoid the ambiguous word "recovered" in my descriptions of children, and focus on a behavioral description of a child’s achievements and continuing goals. Hannah’s accomplishments are remarkable!

Tristram Smith, Ph.D.: Among the most satisfying moments for me are those when families relate how, with treatment, children establish mutual, loving relationships for the first time, though the process by which such relationships emerge remains a mystery that we need to understand better.