Trev's Tale
"He's a fighter. He has a will to live."
This is Trevor's auntie writing now. I'm taking over this section because my sister would never tell you this part. This is a story whose impact reaches far beyond a bar of soap.
Trevor was born a micro-preemie at 26 weeks. He was the size of a Beanie Baby, a can of Coke. He could fit in the palm of your hand. When Trevor was born, the doctors at a very sophisticated neonatal ICU took extreme measures to keep him alive. At a lesser facility, it is likely that Trevor would have been one of many early births that did not survive. Even as I write that, however, I second guess my assumption. There were many moments in those initial weeks that Trevor experienced grave setbacks and we were certain he would die, and he didn’t.
A common refrain among the doctors was, “He’s a fighter. He has a will to live.” Luckily, as these things go, he came from a fighter. This journey has been harrowing, to say the least, for my sister, and every day she somehow draws energy to continue on.
After 100 days in the ICU, baby Trevor came home with a feeding tube, and beyond the around-the-clock feedings, on a broader view, doctors feared he might not crawl, might not walk, might not talk, might not read. For every dire prognosis, Tia’s perseverance and belief, and Trevor’s innate will to live and thrive, proved every limited prediction false.
This story is not just about an autistic boy who suffers from a grand mal seizure disorder, sensory overload which sometimes leads to explosive behavior, attention issues which entice him into the rabbit hole of technology, Crohn's disease (the list is long! For most of us, even one of these disabilities would keep us in bed with the covers over our heads), it is also about his mother. She will edit out the full version of what I would like to write, so I will keep it short.
Because of Trevor’s mother, he is able to live a full and rich life. He is not planted in front of a TV or iPad (that would be an easier choice, and one, honestly, I could see making myself!). Tia, at every turn, looks at the next milestone that doctors cautiously advise “He will never reach.” Tia knows that her son is capable of far more than anyone else will ever see. As a young man, she sees the need for him to engage in “real work.” She, therefore, created a scenario that most neurotypical kids would envy - the ability to start their own company and feel the pride of a product well made, a product made with a mother’s boundless love.
