A Gift Named Mallie

WRITTEN BY:  JOHNNA KAMINSKI

"Our Mallie story starts with us waiting for our beautiful, amazing, sweet little girl. It took us a year to get pregnant, and we were so excited for all the adventures to come. When she was born, there were complications.

I had preeclampsia, and she had really bad colic. The first couple of months were filled with tears and crying, but also so much joy because we were so in love with our little Mallie girl. None of the complications could outweigh the happiness we felt!

When Mallie started crawling, she would drag her left side. We were really concerned, and when we went to the doctor, there were so many developmental boxes that needed to be checked that we started feeling the pressure of what was considered normal. This was our first baby, and to us, she was perfect in every way. She communicated some, but a lot of it was repeating words or saying things that didn't really make sense.

We went from physical therapy to occupational therapy, and then our therapist suggested that we really needed to start speech therapy. Then came the words we weren't prepared to hear: "Please get her evaluated for autism, just to make sure."

That was the hardest day, because I was pregnant and about to have my little boy, Mallie girl's baby brother. I was already nervous. What if Mallie didn't get what she needed because I was so focused on the new baby? I was so tired. Was this going to be too much for me? All these thoughts and emotions were running through my head, and all I could think was, "Am I doing a good job?"

Fast-forward to when our baby boy was six weeks old. We went to the doctor for Mallie's evaluation. The doctor did a bunch of tests while I watched from another room. At one point, they allowed me to come in and be present, but even then, in my gut, my heart kept sinking because those checkmarks weren't getting checked.

They sent me into a room while Mallie played with blocks in a corner. She wasn't just playing with them. She was lining them up from biggest to smallest, but at two years old, her words just weren't coming out.

Then the bomb: they told me she had autism.

I remember feeling so saddened. I got to a point where I thought that if I didn't say the word, it wouldn't be attached to her, as if that meant she wouldn't have to struggle. I had gone to school for counseling and had my bachelor's degree in it. I thought I could help myself, but really, I was just trapped in this emotional madness.

Was it my fault? Did I cause her to be autistic? Was Tylenol the reason? I know I had trouble in school. Maybe it was my fault.

I couldn't say the word autism. She was diagnosed at two, and I couldn't fully say the word until she was four.

What finally made me realize I needed help was one day when she couldn't sleep. I had gone 24 hours without any rest, and she was wide awake. I was exhausted. I called her pre-K program and told them, "She can't come today. I'm so sorry."

This was a constant struggle. We had even cleared out her room and moved her dresser into the hallway so she wouldn't have anything that would keep her awake.

I was exhausted.

I called my church crying, saying, "I can't do this. I need help. I need prayer. This is too hard for me."

A pastor named Muhammad, whom I work with today, told me at the time, "Come to church. I want to talk with you and your husband."

So we went, and I told him everything. He told me I needed the church, and most importantly, I needed God. He encouraged me to join a LifeGroup and to be consistent in my faith.

I thought I was pretty strong in my faith before, but when Mallie was going through all the doctor's appointments and therapy, it really did rock me.

I started saying the word autism then. As hard as it was, I was going to start embracing it.