I have no memory of this time of my life. This chapter is based on emails Jim Taylor and Linda  Akiyama sent to me a few years ago.

I was born on March 30, 1971 to Jim and Linda Taylor in Portland, Oregon. They named me Peter James Taylor. Jim worked as the family breadwinner while Linda stayed at home with me. 

Soon after I was born, my pediatrician noticed that my motor skills were not developing and I was missing other developmental milestones. I also would also not allow anyone to hold or comfort me. My parents improvised ways of keeping me close without causing me discomfort.

When I was a year old, I was sent to the Oregon Health & Science University Doernbecher Children’s Hospital for further evaluation of my condition. I was hospitalized numerous times and underwent outpatient testing many times for various disorders. Every time I would go to the hospital for testing, my parents would hope for an explanation on my condition only to run into a dead end.

Then one day, my parents were called into the hospital. They were told that my psychologist had some findings to reveal. They had high hopes that they would finally get an explanation of my condition. They were sorely misled.

In the meeting, my parents were told that I had a cracked skull and the social worker demanded an explanation from them. They had no explanation. They had never dropped me and had been extra careful to avoid accidents to keep me safe. They were told that if the doctors  found any further physical damage or evidence of inappropriate behavior, the police would be involved.

This absolutely devastated my parents. They could not imagine being accused of such horrendous behavior. Because of this and other factors Linda could no longer care for me for awhile. Jim had to work so the hospital found temporary care for me. Later, my parents were informed  hat an x-ray technician had misread the x-ray and there never was a crack in my skull. But the news was a little too late—the emotional  damage and marital stress had already taken effect.

Some time later I was diagnosed with congenital Cerebral Palsy. I was admitted to the Crippled Children Division for motor skills rehabilitation. After further tests, I was diagnosed with Autism.

I went through programs designed to help children with emotional disabilities. My parents and I were involved in many individual and group therapy sessions with other parents. Needless to say, it became a full-time commitment for my parents. The program was under the scrutiny of doctors. Many times when they couldn’t explain what was going on, they would revert to the blame game—directed at my parents and more  than hinting that they were inadequate parents.

Soon, I reached the age where OHSU was no longer equipped to take care of me. The public school denied my enrollment due to my behavior issues and Autism diagnosis. Private school was beyond my parent’s resources and homeschooling was not recognized at that time. So, I  was sent to Edgefield School as an alternative for children with special emotional needs. The problem with Edgefield is that it only lasted three or  four years It was a boarding school. I would be there from Sunday evening until Friday afternoon.

By that time, Jim and Linda’s marriage had broken down. There was no abuse going on but they were no longer happy in their relationship. Linda got custody of my little brother and me.

Because Linda was a single mother, she had to find work. Mike Matern, the director of Edgefield school had just accepted a position as the
director of The Casey Family Program—a private organization which provides excellent foster care services. Mike Matern heard of Linda’s plight and offered his services, but he didn’t push. Linda realized that it had financial and practical resources that were beyond the scope of both Jim and her. She realized that The Casey Family Program could provide for a home for me that both Jim and she could not.

It was the hardest decision they ever made. Like the Biblical account of baby Moses’s mother putting him into a basket on the Nile and releasing him into God’s hands, so Jim and Linda put me into The Casey Family Program’s foster care system and left me in God’s hands.

Linda chose to not contact me unless I first reached out to her (which didn’t occur until 2010). Jim would meet with me once a year. For the most part, I wouldn’t engage in our yearly visits because I had no memory of him or Linda. (My memory begins at age 7—after I was put into foster care.)

Never did I realize that the storm the devil put Jim and Linda through during my early childhood years, he would visit upon our marriage ten-fold 30 years later.