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Kate’s Story By Kyla Doyle
Some call it fate, others luck,
even coincidence—I call it a miracle; the way the people
in our lives, even those we encounter in what seem to be
insignificant moments, can come back to have such a
profoundly unexpected, even life-changing effect on us.
Brent Woodall was one of the first people I met on the
campus of UC Berkeley in 1990 as a new student and
fellow athlete. A “gentle giant,” Brent was liked and
admired by all who knew him. Connected through similar
social circles and weeknights spent in Athletic Study
Hall, this college acquaintance of mine would turn out
to be one of the most important people I would ever
know.—Kyla Doyle
The tragedy of 9/11 was life-changing for our family,
though it brought a different kind of change for us, as
my husband, a US Marine stationed at Camp Pendleton, CA,
was soon deployed to Afghanistan, then to Iraq a year
later. While he was in Iraq, I gave birth to Kate, our
second daughter, whom he greeted via satellite phone
from somewhere on the outskirts of Baghdad.
Kate was a beautiful, busy toddler who sat, crawled, and
walked earlier than most. At a year old, we began to
notice that Kate was not talking—in fact she was not
even babbling and didn’t seem to be interested in
communicating verbally. She loved to spin in circles and
keep herself busy stacking blocks and working with
puzzles. By 18 months Kate had said a few
words—surprising us by spurting out a word we had never
heard her say—however, in spite of our encouragement,
she would never say the word again. We began to notice
that Kate would not respond when we called her by
name—soft, loud, near, far—not even a glance in our
direction. We took her to an audiologist to have her
hearing checked. “Her hearing is normal,” they said.
Then came the speech pathologist, the developmental
pediatrician, and a host of others…
Autism. It was two days after Kate’s second birthday
that I first heard this word in reference to my own
child. I didn’t know much about autism before that day,
but I have spent every day since trying to become an
expert on this disorder that seemed to loom over my
daughter’s future. All summer I took Kate to public
agency intake appointments, assessments, and speech
therapy appointments. I spent hours on the phone, with
doctors and case managers, frustrated at every turn by
the bureaucracy that seemed to keep Kate from starting
the treatment that would help her most. My husband would
soon be deployed for another seven month tour in Iraq,
and I was feeling the pressure of dealing with this on
my own.
On August 8, 2005, I began the day like any
other—searching the internet for answers. I found “The
Brent Woodall Foundation for Exceptional Children” and
learned how Brent’s widow, Tracy Pierce Woodall would,
through her own personal tragedy, be inspired to bring
hope to the families of autistic children. Encouraged by
the success stories of the children Tracy had helped, I
emailed the Foundation, told them Kate’s story and hoped
that they might be able to direct me to a local parent
training workshop so that I could have the skills to
help Kate myself.
Soon after, I received a phone call from Tracy Pierce
Woodall, who told me that she wanted to work with Kate
personally—and as soon as possible. Tracy’s urgency and
eagerness to help was a new and welcome change; Kate and
I were on a flight to Texas just three days later.
Tracy and her amazing staff had cleared their schedules
for the week in order to work with Kate and train me in
ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) therapy and methods of
Discrete Trial Training. Each day, the Foundation staff
came to our hotel for 5-6 hours of therapy, performed
assessments, and began to plan an ABA program that I
could do at home with Kate. In just four days of
intensive one on one therapy, Kate was doing and saying
things I would have never imagined just the week before!
When it was time to leave at the end of the week, I
tried to say thank you to Tracy for all that she had
done, but only tears came. Words just couldn’t express
how much she had done for us. Tracy and her staff had
empowered me with the tools and knowledge to help
Kate—even if nobody else would. For the first time in
months I wasn’t frustrated, but hopeful. I wanted them
to know that they had already changed both our lives
forever.
Since coming home, I have been able to set up a “therapy
space” to work with Kate who continues to make progress.
We have been able to get some hours of ABA services with
the state, and I am able to make up the gap in her
training with all of the tools I received from the
foundation. My hope is that next Spring my husband will
return home to a smiling three year old, who greets him
with a hug and can say, “I love you Daddy!”
Honoring Brent’s legacy, Tracy and the Foundation are
giving families the gift of hope, and the promise of a
better future. I often refer to Tracy and her staff as
“Kate’s Angels”—I have never met a group of people who
are so dedicated to helping others, changing so many
lives along the way.
Update: December 9, 2005
Here is a video of
Kate playing the game "Cariboo" for just the second time
with her tutor, Josh. She's a little stuffy and wipes
her nose alot, as she's got a bit of a cold.
Click on
the movie reel to see the video!
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