Dads struggle with child's autism, embrace parenting

But for Carroll, there was one thing it couldn’t be — autism.

“I’d lay in bed and my heart just kept saying No. No. No,” Carroll said.

Even after the official diagnosis, Carroll cried and asked God if he were being punished.

“Would Cody ever graduate from high school? ... Would we ever ride four-wheelers together? ... Would Cody ever ride a bike?” Carroll asked himself over and over.

But over time, Carroll, 43, worked through his feelings and became more engaged. He started bringing Cody, a child with blue eyes and an easy smile, to speech and other therapies. And he discovered new ways to connect to his younger child.

It may not be a typical father-son relationship. It won’t be kindergarten at 5, T-ball at 6, teaching Cody to drive at 16.

But it’s a father-son relationship Carroll now embraces.

Carroll tries to live in the present — recently setting up an inflatable water slide on a sunny afternoon, followed by some one-on-one time playing with trains.

On this Father’s Day, Carroll looks at his now-4 1/2-year-old son hopefully.

“It was a process for me of learning to accept my son was going to have special needs and that, you know what, that it wasn’t all that bad,” said Carroll.

Suppressed feelings

Raising a child with autism carries a unique set of challenges. Unlike some other illnesses, doctors can’t fix autism. There is no cure for autism, and there’s no “one-size-fits-all” treatment.

And while moms often tackle autism right away, reaching out to other women for support, fathers often suppress their feelings and try to handle it alone.

“What happens when you get a diagnosis is the mother typically starts like preparing for war — mobilizing resources. She’s on the Internet day and night looking for alternative therapies, and men are fixers by nature and all of a sudden they can’t fix it and their minds don’t know how to handle it,” said Jeff Davidson, founder of Rising Above Ministries, which holds retreats for parents with special-needs children in Tennessee and Georgia.

During a recent retreat, when moderators asked people to submit questions, one-third of the responses were from women saying the same thing: How do I get my husband more involved and engaged?

A handful of couples canceled because the husbands wouldn’t go to the retreat.

Davidson said some fathers leave after a diagnosis. Some check out, retreating into their job or hobby.

About 1 in 88 children are on the autism spectrum, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. That’s a 78 percent increase compared with a decade ago, according to a report released this year. Boys with autism continue to outnumber girls 5-to-1. It’s estimated 1 in 54 boys have autism.

Autism is a general term for a group of complex disorders of brain development. The disorders are characterized in varying levels of difficulties with social interaction, communication and repetitive behaviors.

The impairment ranges from mild to severe. Cody is somewhere in the middle.

Shifting focus

Davidson learned firsthand the challenges of being a dad to a son with autism. His teenage son has autism and cerebral palsy. During the early years of his son’s life, Davidson worked in commercial insurance, and he’d escape to his home office every night. He’d make up reasons to catch up on work — and then disappear.

Davidson said dads must go through the grief process. It was gradual and included denial and anger and a stage of “bargaining” for Davidson, who lives in Cookeville, Tenn.

Eventually, he stopped focusing on what his child couldn’t do, but instead on what they could do together — even if that meant getting out of his comfort zone.

For example, Davidson, a former pastor, didn’t particularly like singing. But that changed because every time he sang a tune, his son, who can’t speak, lit up. Now, every night for an hour, Davidson swings his only child, Jon Alex, 14, on a special platform swing. And, of course, sings to his son at the same time.

“It’s our time together. ... If I had a typical child, I would never dream of doing this. But whose dream was that anyway? All I know is for an hour, my autistic son is happy and engaged and we are together.”

Linking with other dads

Davidson recommends fathers connect with other dads of special-needs kids. No need to call them “support groups,” he said. He calls his men’s groups “Hang Time” — a time for pizza, talking about kids and life, in a place of understanding.

“If you go into a Wal-Mart with a child in a wheelchair, there’s a certain level of grace and acceptance you receive. If you have a child with autism thrashing about, you get those stares and hear those comments, ‘That mom and dad should be doing something about that behavior.’”

Davidson encourages dads to do what they can; they don’t have to do everything.

“If I can convince a dad to stick it out just long enough and to hang in there and to fight for your child, you will burn through this and you will see this as a huge blessing and opportunity,” he said.

Carroll has done just that.

Working for the Department of Transportation, Carroll used a combination of sick and vacation days to accompany Cody to therapy two days a week. Cindy Carroll, who is a firefighter/paramedic, did the same to also accompany Cody to therapy.

Amber Valentino, a licensed psychologist and board-certified behavior analyst at the Marcus Autism Center in Atlanta, saw Carroll get excited about his son’s progress at the institute, where Cody got therapy to help with communication skills and making transitions.

“It’s wonderful to see parents get excited about a child’s progress, and it can be difficult because those gains can be very small. So it might be going from non-gesturing to gesturing, and on a daily basis it can seem very small, but over time children can make a lot of progress,” Valentino said.

Couples’ retreat

Davidson’s last retreat in Tennessee near the Georgia border hosted about 50 couples, many from metro Atlanta.

The Carrolls were among the couples there. It was the first time the couple had ever been away from Cody.

Scott Carroll said the retreat taught him and his wife the need to support each other — especially when one sinks into a dark place.

“When she’s having a bad day, I’ve got to be there for her and vice versa,” Scott Carroll said. “I’ve got to lift her up. We can’t both get down at the same time.”

Life in the Carroll household is unpredictable. On some days, Cody is OK with getting dressed, brushing his teeth, going to therapy. Other days, he battles every task, every change. On a recent day, Cody fought getting medicine for 20 minutes. That was followed by a 20-minute battle to take a bath, and that was followed by yelling and screaming against the idea of getting his teeth brushed.

Cindy Carroll said she has watched Scott really understand their son. For example, her son likes to play with his trains on the kitchen table. He likes to put them in a specific order either by color or by design — the wooden ones next to the wooden ones; metal next to the metal ones. When the Carrolls picked up the trains before dinner, Cody got distraught.

“Scott is good at stepping back and looking at what’s causing the tantrum,” Cindy said. “Scott worked with Cody by preparing him before dinner and talking about moving the trains, and then he would do it slowly and carefully.”

She has seen her husband look for opportunities to help her son learn and grow — as well as just be happy.

Scott Carroll recently used bath crayons to write the ABCs on the wall while Cody took a bath. It was a little lesson on the alphabet, but it also made bath time — something Cody often resists — more enjoyable.

Afterward, Cody was making a sound “A-I-E-U.” Scott realized Cody was trying to sing “Old MacDonald,” so after the bath, father and son sang the nursery rhyme.

Bright moments

They celebrate moments. Cody, who was saying “milk” or “swim” to express himself, is now saying full sentences: “I want milk” and “I want to swim.”

They’ve lost some friends who seem uneasy around a child with autism. They’ve made some new friends.

The Carrolls also try to be sensitive to their older child, 10-year-old Justin, not wanting him to feel neglected because of the time and attention that goes to Cody. Carroll carves out time for Justin. The two go to the movies or go hunting. Carroll encourages his son’s enthusiasm in working on animation projects.

“Now I see it takes a special parent to be a special-needs parent. We didn’t do anything wrong. God has a plan for us and that is Cody. God thought we could handle Cody and that we would fight for Cody.”

On a recent afternoon, Cody said, “I want ice cream.” It wasn’t mumbling. It was Cody letting his parents know exactly what he wanted.

Carroll smiled.

And then Cody turned to his dad and kissed him on the forehead. He said, “I U” and turned his palm forward. He then extended his thumb, index finger and little finger, leaving the two fingers in the middle down. Cody was telling his father “I love you” in sign language.

Carroll hugged his son.

“I love you, too, Cody. I love you, too.”