Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Marney Rich Keenan
Book is mother's candid look at bringing up an autistic son

What inspired Annie Lubliner Lehmann to write a memoir about raising
her autistic 25-year-old son Jonah was not a success story or a
happily-ever-after ending. It was not a triumph over silence, a
disappearance of the disability through diet or a breakthrough in the
obsessive mind.

What inspired her was the power of acceptance: acceptance that Jonah,
like thousands of other individuals who suffer from severe autism,
will never develop self-help skills, never achieve independence,
never say "I love you, Mom" without being coached word for word, and
never have a life where every hour in his day is not guided by others.

And when you consider that construct alone, achieving acceptance is
the equivalent of climbing a mountain and reaching the summit.

She learned it from Jonah, her "Accidental Teacher," as she calls
him. "The Accidental Teacher: Life Lessons from My Silent Son" is
also the title of her book, which she self-published through
AuthorHouse this year. It's available for $14.95 from Amazon.com.

The book has drawn accolades from educators and autism experts.

Frances LaPlante-Sosnowsky, associate professor of education at Wayne
State University, who has a 30-year-plus background in special
education, said: "I have never read a book about a disabled person
that caught me from page one. I could not put this one down. Annie
Lehmann offers a profound perspective on living with the reality of a
severely disabled child. This book will be required reading for
students who take my class in Special Education Administration."

"The Accidental Teacher" is as much about Lehmann's own self-
discovery as it is about her son's illness. What she learns is
acceptance of everyone's limitations, including hers and Jonah's.

"Acceptance is not real easy, though," she says. "Especially when all
you're trying to do is just get through the day. But, as Jonah got
older, my expectations changed and that's important."

For the last seven years, Jonah has lived in a three-bedroom ranch in
West Bloomfield Township with a large fenced-in backyard and a great
room with a cathedral ceiling. The Lehmanns bought the house because
they could make it fit their specifications for Jonah's needs, such
as having no stairs and having his own bathroom. Jonah's family --
his father Michael Lehmann, a cardiologist at the University of
Michigan Hospitals, and younger siblings David and Ruth -- live less
than a mile away.

Jonah's house is staffed round-the-clock and managed by Darlene
Mantua, who Lehman considers heaven sent.

He shares the home with two women who are close to his age and have
similar disabilities. They are both affectionate toward Jonah, making
sure he is dressed warmly before he heads out on a busy schedule that
includes swimming, horseback riding, hiking scenic trails or simply
pushing the grocery cart up and down the aisles.

But the whole Lehmann family struggled mightily to get to this place.
When Jonah was born 25 years ago, autism was said to occur in only 15
births out of 10,000. Now, 1 in 150 children born in the U.S. are
estimated to have some degree of autism. Back then, there was little
science or information to help families navigate the confusion and
heartache that come with severe forms of the disease.

It took almost four years of anguish and missed milestones for Jonah
to be diagnosed with autism. At different points, he was said to have
attention-deficit disorder, cerebral palsy and perhaps Fragile X
Syndrome, an inherited mental impairment.

Lehmann writes of picking up Jonah from day care after missing him
all day while at work. While other children gleefully welcomed their
parents' arrival, Jonah would be sitting alone on the floor, fixated
on a toy, not responding when his mother called his name.

"His developmental delays were obvious, but he didn't display the
rigidity or resistive tantrumming often associated with autism," she
writes. "In fact, he was overly docile and seemingly indifferent to
his surroundings. What we didn't realize was that he had already
begun setting up shop in his own faraway world."

At 4 months old, Jonah would have to be propped up for photographs
because he couldn't sit without support. He developed odd interests
like swinging doors back and forth. He was overly passive, not
protesting if others grabbed his toys. At 16 months old, he was not
walking independently.

Lehmann was obsessed with teaching Jonah language. Every move she
made was accompanied by a running monologue. Sometimes she'd withhold
things, hoping to motivate some utterance -- just one blessed word.
But it seemed as if Jonah would rather forgo juice than say the word
she was after. "Repeating a modeled word earned him whatever he
wanted, but constantly doing this made life feel like an ongoing
Pavlov experiment," she writes.

Through it all, Lehmann writes of overcoming her fears and having two
other children, battling martyrdom, experiencing guilt over
medicating Jonah and struggling with years of sleep deprivation.
Although few and far between, there are grand and beautiful moments
where Jonah seems comfortable, content even, in his own skin.

During a recent photo shoot at Jonah's home, Jonah has stopped
circling the kitchen and has sat down on the couch next to his
mother. Her arm is wrapped around her son while he, for the moment
anyway, is completely captivated by the DVD "Snow White and The Seven
Dwarfs."

Dark-haired with deep brown eyes and perfect features, you can
picture a strikingly handsome and bright young man -- a professional,
a husband and father.

"It's a loss," his mother says, using her fingers to comb his
hair. "It's a chronic loss and I'm always reminded of it. I'll never
find closure. It's a painful piece of my life.

"But I think of it this way: Pain can be a piece of life's pie, but
it doesn't have to eclipse everything else in your life. I am
extremely blessed to have two other healthy children, a supportive
husband and the resources to take care of Jonah as we see fit. And
for that, I'm very grateful."

Marney Rich Keenan's column runs in The Detroit News Features section
on Wednesdays and in Homestyle on Saturdays. You can reach her at
(313) 222-2515 or mkeenan@....








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