"It hurts! It hurts!"
From the way Emily Peters screamed, bits of glass might have been grinding into her skin or flames licking at her limbs.
Michele Peters pulled her car over to the side of road and turned to her daughter in the backseat.
This time, the culprit was cracker crumbs.
Only cracker crumbs.
A few flakes had slipped down her 3-year-old daughter's shirt on the drive home from school.
Michele brushed the crumbs away, and just like that, everything was OK again.
Except it wasn't. Not really.
This is Emily's world, where crumbs sting and even the quietest noises sound as if they're coming through a megaphone.
Where the sensation of going potty is so uncomfortable she'll hold it until she's sick.
Where a sweet, elfish face sometimes contorts in rage, tiny fists swing and feet kick at anyone who comes near.
And then the clouds break and the storm is gone, leaving an exhausted little girl crying, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" on the floor.
Hurricane Emily. That's what her family jokingly calls her.
For those in her path, there's nothing to do but hold on and ride it out.
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The Peters haven't sat in the pews at their church for more than two years. Not since Emily was 6 months old.
That's about the same time they lost most of their friends and stopped eating at restaurants.
The stares from strangers, the unsolicited advice about disciplining the screaming little girl was too much for Michele.
Even from the start, Emily wasn't easy.
Like a growing population of children, she was conceived after a series of infertility problems. Scott and Michele Peters first tried in vitro fertilization in September of 2001. The process is expensive, and it failed initially. In January 2002, the Jackson couple decided to give in vitro one last chance.
The second attempt was successful, at least until Michele's 29th week of pregnancy, when she began having contractions. She quit her job as a speech therapist and took Breathene, a drug used to prevent contractions, for the next seven weeks. On Sept. 27, 2002, Michelle's water broke and her placenta erupted. Doctors later said the family was lucky both baby and mom didn't die.
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There is something pixie-ish in the way Emily Peters smiles up at an unfamiliar face. She immediately claims strangers as companions, introducing her new friend to anyone who will listen. She'll gladly share her toys for as long as you're willing to play.
That's most people's experience with the Jackson 3-year-old.
But sometimes, her emotions cloud up, her senses crackle and spark, and the storm returns.
For two years, Emily's enemy was nameless.
Michele's training as a speech pathologist told her something was wrong. Emily was nothing like the Peters' tranquil first child, Megan.
Their second-born had constant ear infections and digestion problems. She disliked being cuddled. She seemed to struggle adjusting to the space around her. At first, Michelle considered autism as a possible culprit. Later, she realized Emily's speech and other abilities were likely too developed for that diagnosis.
Family and friends didn't always recognize that anything was wrong with Emily. For Michele, worst were the judgemental looks from strangers at the grocery store or in restaurants as Emily fell into one of her rages, writhing on the floor and screaming.
Brat. Brat.
Michele knows that's what they're thinking.
In fact, that's what Michele thought at first as well. When people asked about Emily, Michele would say, "She's just a miserable child."
Michele bought books with titles like "The High Spirited Child" and perused the pages, hoping to find answers. None came. Not until spring 2005.
That spring, Emily was evaluated by an occupational therapist. She scored at-risk in all the categories assessed, with adaptive, social and emotional disabilities. An MRI showed evidence of a mild brain bleed, likely caused by her traumatic birth.
But finally, the reason behind Emily's tempests had a name: sensory integration dysfunction.
The little-known disorder affects the way a person's senses (touch, movement, smell, taste, vision and hearing) are processed in the brain.
Most of Emily's senses are magnified. Lights are brighter. Sounds are louder. Certain textures are rougher -- even painful.
Emily began occupational therapy, but the family's insurance plan didn't cover the cost, so the therapy was discontinued.
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Last summer, the storms came less frequently.
Emily responded well to brushing therapy -- a technique that parents with autistic children have often found helpful. The bristles stimulate the body's senses, calming down the child.
But the pressure in the Peters' home shifted in late fall. Hurricane Emily returned, and nothing the family did calmed the storm for long.
Coming Monday: The Peters continue their struggle to understand 3-year-old Emily's disorder, finding hope in new therapies and the support of others.
cmiller@semissourian.com
335-6611, extension 128
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