The formal definition of joint attention is the process by which one alerts another to a stimulus via nonverbal means, such as gazing (and making eye contact) or pointing. When your baby sees a balloon and points, looking at you to make sure you are seeing this phenomenon too, that is joint attention. When your toddler finds a favorite toy and brings it to you in awe, that is joint attention. In typically developing babies, joint attention occurrs naturally. There is an innate desire to interact, communicate and exchange information with other people. The process of joint communication is often inconsistent or not present at all in autistic babies.
Oliver showed virtually no joint attention as a very young baby but at the time, I didn't know what the term meant, and I was too busy surviving the post partum period to notice if he was doing it anyway. When he was around 9 months or so, he did start pointing to a few things, particularly balloons in the grocery store. He would point and make a loud "Ooooooooh" but he never looked at me to share the excitement. After a couple of weeks, he stopped pointing altogether. I remember the first time Oliver showed a toy to another person. We were at a friend's house for a potluck and there were parents and babies everywhere. Out of the blue, Oliver took a ball and while looking right at him, handed it to one of the dads. He repeated this action with one other dad that night, and then he never did it again. I was so excited that night and promptly reported to Oliver's developmental specialist the next day that he had shown someone a ball! He had engaged in joint attention! I watched and waited for more sharing from him, but it didn't come. It seemed that just as fleetingly as the pointing, his "showing" of cool toys was gone as well.
When joint attention is not present, there is very little reward to the child when they play, and since children learn largely through play, delays in development occur. Characteristic of a child with Autism, Oliver lacks good play skills. Few toys interest him, and when one does, it is usually because he can engage in some sort of repetitive 'game' with it. He likes barns because he can put the animals in and out. He likes dollhouses because he can sit the people in the chairs over and over. A common activity for Oliver is emptying the contents of a toy bin. He will pull one item out at a time, briefly examine it, and chuck it onto the floor. Occasionally he picks things up and puts them back.
Engaging Oliver in an activity is very challening, and quite honestly, leads to a lot of disappointment. Not disappointment in him, but disappointment, and sadness, that I can't truly play with him. He prefers to play alone, when he does play, and when I try to join him in an activity, he leaves it. Try to imagine what it would be like if every time you tried to read your child a book, make animals sounds with them, stack blocks, or do a simple puzzle, they just walked away. It's not that Oliver doesn't want to play with me, or with anybody else for that matter, he just doesn't know how. He doesn't even know the possibility exists.
For me, the inability to play with Oliver is devastating. Sometimes when I am with a friend's child, I find myself playing with them instead of Oliver. This always leaves me feeling really guilty, because I enjoy playing with an engaging child so much more than playing with my own. I love Oliver more than any other child in this world, and I will never stop trying to play with him, but the hurt I feel right now because of what I'm missing out on is unreal. If I were granted three wishes, my number one wish would be for Oliver to join his attention with mine, and play with me.
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