Bertina Jackson's my name, and I live with my family in Kingsport, Tennessee.  My family is comprised of my husband, Jacob (been married for 12 years now), and our five children:  Cordelia Grace (15); Countess Marie (13); Ciara Lyne'e (10); Cordarial Michael (7); and Cyanne Tyree' (4).  My husband works nights as a janitor at a local hospital; meanwhile, I stay home to take care of our brood.

I am happy to say that most of our children are happy and have good health; however, our second-youngest child (Cordarial) has an autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and learning disabilities.  He doesn't talk (much), and new people or situations throw him into uncontrollable tantrums.  One has to be extemely careful when dealing with our son.

At the age of seven, Cordarial acts more like a two- to three- year-old.  He isn't toilet-trained (yet, though we are working on this; so far, we've only had minimal success), and he doesn't say but maybe two dozen words at the most.  It's very frustrating.  In addition, he will only eat certain foods (Cheerios, graham crackers, and jello:  anything else ends up on the floor or coming back up.  Meals are always a cause of strees for our family.

Cordarial seems to react better to objects rather than people.  He can spend hours picking lint off the floor or carpet, interacting with his toy dinosaurs or trucks, or staring at some unseen object on the ceiling, a big, goofy, drooly grin plastered on his face.  At times we wonder if he is deaf or hard-of-hearing:  he doesn't respond when we call his name.

My other children are often embarrassed when Cordarial acts up or "goes into 'autism mode'"; they often don't understand why their brother is like this.  It's only natural.  I explain to them that their brother has a neurological disorder that's impaired his ability to socialize with people, and because of this, he has unusual behaviors and seems younger than he really is, although, in reality, he is a fairly bright kid.

I don't know if little Cyanne, our youngest, fully understands this, but the others seem to. 

When we aren't dealing with Cordarial's situation, we are like any other family.  We love to do things together, like take the kids to the park, go to Chuck E. Cheese's, or take them to the zoo.  We do this on days where Cordarial is behaving; we don't do these things when he is stressing out.

We often wish our son was more like his siblings; yet we are blessed.  He is able to walk, play, think (most of the time, that is, when he isn't zoning out into his own little world), and seems to enjoy therapy or spending time with his brother and sisters.

We are blessed because Cordarial isn't in a wheelchair, and he can take care of himself (with help).  He can feed himself, though he eats like a bird, as I've explained above.  We are trying to work with him with his eating habits, but like the toilet-training, we've met with only little success.  Yet we are hopeful.

Cordarial can see, hear, even speak (a little).  He isn't like some of the children at his school.  One of his friends has a neurodegenerative disorder that will kill her before she reaches teenhood (she's six now), and she's totally dependent on others to care for her.  She's blind, nonverbal, unable to do anything for herself. 

Another kid has total cerebral palsy and cannot see; he requires total care, too.  It's really sad to see some of these kids going through this.

This is when we thank God that Cordarial is the way he is, even though he, himself, has problems.  He could be like these children; we thank God that he isn't.  This is when we call his autism a blessing in disquise.

Well, Cordarial is calling me, so I will run along.  I will write in here again soon; I know I have more to tell about Cordarial as well as the rest of our children.  Our story isn't over.  Until next time, this is Bertina Jackson saying so long and God bless!

~Love, your new friend in Kingsport, Tennessee, Bertina Jackson.  :)