Stephanie Allen Crist:

In March of 1998, Stephanie Allen married Mark F. Crist—a man with a diagnosis of bi-polar disorder.  From this beginning, she knew her life would be somewhat different from her original vision and from the hopes some of her family and friends had for her.  As she vowed “in sickness and in health,” she knew that mental illness would always be a facet of her life.  She loved, respected, appreciated, and believed in this man whose worth as a human being was so often questioned.  Knowing depression from within herself and having experienced mental illness through others in her life, she knew that mental illness did not make someone less of a person or less valuable of a person.  Even then, the seeds of neurodiversity were planted deeply in her soul—though she’d never heard the word nor been taught its importance.  Once, she envisioned a straight path leading to a shining future, but she accepted the darkness and the twists and turns her choice would bring.  She stepped forward bravely and naively, hand-in-hand with her love.

Stephanie Allen Crist chose family, commitment, and sacrifice from this beginning.  Walking away from the college opportunities laid out for her due to her intelligence and her achievements, she married a man who already had one child when she was only eighteen years old.  A few months after her nineteenth birthday, she gave birth to the first child they had together.  This, too, was a beginning.  In this beginning, she learned that having a baby and raising a child was not quite what all those books made it out to be.  She chose to breastfeed; her child chose not to drink from the breast.  She chose to cuddle and hold her baby; her child’s body would go rigid and stiff and his lungs would fill the air with shrill cries.  She chose to gaze into his face; he chose to look away.  In ignorance, she mothered her infant who was (had she only known) unmistakably autistic.  Her love was unconditional, but her confusion was profound.  None of the baby books she’d read had prepared her for this.

Another child was conceived and eleven days shy of his brother’s first birthday, her second son was born.  This child was different, which was expected.  But, this child too defied the baby books at every turn.  This child would not sleep on his back, so he slept on his belly.  Knowledge and fear of sudden infant death syndrome, which had stolen the lives of at least one and possibly two of her uncles, kept this little boy out of his cradle when he was on his belly.  So, he slept on his belly, but on top of hers, pinning her down, restraining her movement, and filling her fitful, short bursts of sleep with haunting dreams of a biblical story in which a mother rolled over in her sleep and smothered her baby.  With an infant and a toddler, with too little sleep and too much to do, with birth control chemicals coursing through her body, she crashed.  Depression, like a mountain, fell on her, smothering her, stealing her self-control.  Until one day, while her husband was at work, she watched from above as her body screamed at her crying infant who lay on his back in his cradle, while his brother slept in his crib.  That part of her that knew this was wrong pulled her back, away from the crying baby, to the telephone.  A desperate call to the doctor and then to her sister-in-law, brought help, medicine, and way forward.

Time passed slowly and quickly, in spurts of exhaustion and joy.  The boys grew, but their development was uneven and unpredictable.  So many things seemed to cause them distress.  But, her husband’s sister was getting married.  It was a joyful time.  There were obligations.  So, this little family, with the help of her own mother, took these two small children into a dark restaurant full of people and noise and smells.  It didn’t go well.  They screamed and thrashed and would not sit still.  These little bodies packed a great deal of strength in their wiry muscles as they used everything they had to get out of her arms, to get away from the sensations they could not handle.  Humiliated, she and her mother removed the children, taking them outside.  Her husband’s mother and grandmother followed.  This grandmother, who seemed so strict and aloof, had eyes full of compassion and concern.  “You need to take these children in,” she said.  “There’s something wrong.”

After months of trying, she managed to get an appointment with a school of psychology clinic.  “Autism” was the diagnosis, but beyond this word they had no help to offer.  Another clinic, one with more extensive resources, was contacted and an appointment was scheduled.  By this time, she was already pregnant with her third son.  When the date of the appointment arrived, her belly was swollen with new life.  Her with her young family—her husband, her step-son, and her two smalls sons who were so different from her expectations—entered the clinic with hope and expectations of help.  Hour after exhausting hour, the tests and the waiting continued.  And then, when it seemed they could not possibly take one more minute of this, with her autistic son thrashing once again in her arms, the doctor came with his sentence.  He confirmed the diagnosis of autism, listed all the things her son would never do, and told them that they should put him away in an institution and move on with their lives without him.  They refused, of course, and somehow they made it out of there.  And they never went back.

From these beginnings, Stephanie Allen Crist set out on a path that led inevitably to neurodiversity.  Much has happened along the way.  Much has been learned, much has been experienced, and much has been shared.  It is from these experiences, and everything that has come after, that Stephanie offers her expertise.  She is the mother of three children with autism; she is the wife of a man with bi-polar disorder; she is the best friend of a person with ADD who has a son with ADHD; and she is a person with a history of recurring depression as well as sensory processing differences and other traits that hint at the possibility of undiagnosed Asperger’s Syndrome.  Her talents and her craftsmanship make her a writer.  Her experiences make her an advocate.  Together, these combine to make her a powerful resource for publishers, editors, and others who wish to share the world of neurodiversity with the public.