The American Academy of Pediatrics cautions against vaccinating children who are sick. I didn't know this policy at the time, and apparently neither did anyone in the doctor's office, because I was never told about it. What I did know was that he was supposed to get 33 vaccines before he started school, many of them simultaneously. My refrigerator magnet "freebie" of the vaccination schedule, included along with my complimentary diaper bag and free formula from the hospital, showed that he would be receiving as many as eight vaccines at the same time: combined measles, mumps, rubella (MMR), combined diptheria, tetanus, pertussis (DPT), polio and haemophilus influenzae type B. It seemed like a lot at one time, but I was simply grateful that the combination vaccines meant he would have fewer overall injections.

The ear infection and vaccination pattern continued unabated during Connor's infancy and into his toddler months. His reactions to vaccines ranged from nothing to crankiness to occasional fevers. All of these reactions were considered normal, and all of them passed within a day. The ear infections became harder to treat over time, as if Connor's system was building up an immunity to the frequent antibiotics.

One day in June of 1998 I noticed that his left ear was pushed out from his head. I had no idea what it meant but I took him to the doctor. Despite being on antibiotics, his latest ear infection had progressed into mastoiditis and he was rushed to the emergency room to get tubes in his ears that same day. The ear infections ceased. But an illness remained with him that was far worse than we had ever anticipated.

Much of his first year had been a period of triumphs. I marked his skills in my dog-eared copy of "What To Expect Your First Year," noting with satisfaction that he was hitting all of his milestones early. I could see that he was a sharp kid, alert to the world around him, and I was proud of his precocious awareness. This ability to focus extended to people as well -- he was compassionate and gentle in his temperament, possessing an unusual insight into the moods of the people around him. I honestly believed he showed early gifts of self-awareness and sensitivity to others.

Around his first birthday everything began to change. Connor regressed in his social behavior and speech and seemed to lose ground on all of his milestones. We had trouble getting his attention. We would call his name over and over again and finally had to look him in the face to get a response. At his birthday party, he was more interested in his balloons, ribbons and boxes than his new toys or the people celebrating around him. He would play with his toys repetitively and in unusual ways, like flipping over his bubble lawn mower to spin the wheels or rolling objects down a ramp for 30 minutes straight. Family members commented jovially that he might be a physics or engineering prodigy, already testing objects to see how they performed.

But when his language started to deteriorate, we lost any hope for his Nobel Prize and wanted desperately for him just to act normal. At 22 months he was mute; instead of pointing or naming things, he would lead one of us by the hand and place it on the thing he wanted. He preferred to watch the same video of "Thomas the Tank Engine" all day long rather than play with us. When people came over to our house he was shy, more than shy -- he would run away and hide -- and if we forced him out he would throw his body to the ground and scream.

I could see that the core of his real personality was still there, but I could only bring it out in him when he was totally at ease, which meant without distractions or interruptions in his routine. Even his diet changed for the worse. He would only eat about five foods -- crackers, Cheerios, McDonald's French fries, chips and cookies.

Time to take Connor back to the doctor, I thought. He'll know. He'll confirm my mom's intuition that something is very wrong. But he didn't.

"He used to talk and now he's quit talking."

"Well, he's been sick from the ear infections. Have you considered having his hearing tested?"

"Yes, we thought of that. His hearing is normal. I'm also worried that he's only eating a few foods, and he's not getting any vegetables and fruits anymore."

The doctor laughed. "My kids are extremely picky, too. As long as his weight is OK -- looks like he's in the 80th percentile -- I wouldn't worry about it. Toddlers are very finicky. As long as he's getting a multivitamin he's getting everything he needs."

Meanwhile Connor is flapping his arms and spinning in circles. I watched for a while. "So he's OK?"

My doctor's forte was reassuring worried moms. "Of course. He's fine. Let's see him again in a month and make sure his weight is on target."

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