'Beemer's' permanent hangover

Julie Williams tells Brenden that the group activity time is coming soon to prepare him for it while he plays at the Parent Connection in a weekly playgroup.

His minty green eyes zero in on the shiny black trailer as Brenden Williams loads Hot Wheels onto his favorite truck.
Methodically, the red ones go first. Then the black.
His is a face that melts hearts. His hair is copper, his smile electrifying.
But there's something very different about his brain.
Three-year-old Brenden's birth mother drank and used drugs during her pregnancy, says the child's adoptive mother, Julie Williams. The alcohol rewired Brenden's brain.
Brenden, who has only some of the facial characteristics of a child with fetal alcohol syndrome, has fetal alcohol effect.
"My child is functioning under a permanent hangover," said Williams, 48, who adopted "Beemer" on March 25, 1996. She's angry about the lifelong damage done to this gorgeous child she adores.
"His parents walked away and have a life while we're living in total chaos," Williams said of Beemer's birth parents.
Beemer gets his nickname from his initials - B.M.W., like the sporty European car.
He's happiest cruising on his tricycle or racing his favorite cars. He's all boy.
His cheery grin and the freckles that sprinkle his nose seem out of an old Andy Griffith show. But looks are deceiving.
Life with Beemer has been an exhausting, frustrating ride for Williams. She loves her child dearly, but is overwhelmed by his erratic, sometimes violent behavior.
Williams realized something was wrong with Beemer shortly after he came to stay with her.
The infant was born to family friends. His mother was frequently drunk throughout her pregnancy, Williams said.
By the time Beemer was born, his parents had split up.
"His mother was living with him in an outdoor storage shed," Williams said. "His bed was a stroller."
When Beemer was 11 weeks old, his mother asked Williams to take him for the weekend. She never came back.
"He brought his pitiful little luggage, and he moved in with me," Williams recalled. "He had three T-shirts, a pair of pajama bottoms, two diapers and a bottle. He had never had a bath in his life. He was malnourished and dirty. But I was so madly in love with him."
The first year and a half was a disaster. If Williams hadn't loved the child so much, she could never have survived. The divorced mother had raised her three children and was enjoying life.
"I realized the day I got him that something went very wrong with this child," she said.
Beemer's sleep patterns were erratic and left Williams exhausted. "He would sleep for 20 minutes at a time. I would stay up for a day or two straight."
Noises threw the infant into a panic. Williams kept the telephone unplugged and the television off. Even a flushing toilet would send the baby into fits of crying.
The tiny infant hated to be touched. "If I tried to comfort him by holding him, he'd flail away from me," Williams recalled. "I'd try holding him, rocking him, feeding him. Nothing worked."
More than three years later, Beemer's problems continue. He sleeps better, but has never slept through the night.
Explosive temper tantrums rock his body and mind. He hurts the people who love him the most.
"We have a lot of behavioral problems with his aggression. He bashed my mother in the head with keys. He's head-butted me in the face as hard as he could, giving me a concussion. And remorse for his actions just isn't there. It's very frightening."
It seems impossible that this angelic boy sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, pushing a toy police car, could be violent.
"That's part of the problem," Williams said. "He looks so normal. But he's not. We've all learned never to turn our backs on him. When he comes to you with his arms open wide, you have to approach cautiously. He might be coming to bite you or claw your face."