One sunny afternoon, my ten-year-old son, Max, made an unexpected announcement: “Mom, I think Ethan has autism.” We had just come back from berry picking, and I glanced at my youngest, who was busy trying to fit a blueberry up his nose, and then turned to Max.
“I understand why you might think that,” I replied thoughtfully. “But Ethan hasn’t been diagnosed with autism.”
“Who else has it? Like me?” Max pressed on, his curiosity piqued.
“Well, many people do have autism, Max.”
“WHO?”
What could I say? I could drown him in statistics, telling him that one in every 44 kids are diagnosed with autism today, which means there are a million kids out there who see the world differently, who might remember the color of the sky last summer or the exact date they last had pizza. But that kind of information would likely fly right over his head.
Instead, I tried to highlight the wonderful aspects of autism: his incredible memory, his big heart, and his amazing determination. Still, I could see the loneliness weighing on him—feeling like the only kid in his family, his class, or perhaps the whole universe with such a diagnosis.
It felt like I was saying this: “Max, you are a magnificent unicorn in a world full of regular horses. You’re breathtaking! We know there are countless others out there—millions, even—but we just don’t know how to connect you with them. And, oh magical unicorn? We don’t quite get your uniqueness. Your vibrant spirit dazzles us, but sometimes your outbursts leave us bewildered. Perhaps it would be easier if you were just like everyone else, so we could teach you to count.”
When I started my blog, I didn’t have a clear vision. It’s been a couple of years, and in retrospect, I think I created it to combat my own feelings of isolation. From my cozy little office, I was able to express my heartaches, share my humor, and connect with other parents navigating the complexities of autism and daily life. And if it raised a bit of autism awareness along the way, that was just a cherry on top.
But I realized I wasn’t fully succeeding. While I had connected with a broader community, the boy sitting next to me—the one with autism—still felt lost, frightened, and alone.
So, I turned to my readers on social media for help, asking them to show Max that he’s not alone; that there are indeed millions of others like him who create beautiful art, hold jobs, love to go to the movies, and savor ice cream after dinner. The response was overwhelming.
“Hi, Max! This is my son, also named Max. He’s seven and has autism. His social skills are a work in progress, but his ability to light up a room is unparalleled. You’re not alone!”
“Greetings, Max! Meet my 15-year-old grandson who also has autism. He’s the unique unicorn in my life.”
In those messages, I saw reflections of Max and myself. I absorbed the hope, the encouragement, the shared struggles.
“My son is 14 and has autism. I’m an active dad, but while I can’t share typical sports moments with him, I embrace his brilliant mind and wonderful humor. My mission is to help him lead the best life possible.”
Old friends from school reached out, colleagues got in touch, and one mom shared her son’s beautiful smile with me.
“Hey there, Max! My son is six and has autism. He doesn’t speak much, but his smile can light up any room… just like yours.”
Teachers from all over chimed in. “I’ve taught several students with autism, and each has changed my life in a profound way.”
From Minnesota to California, people shared their stories. “Hi Max! I have twin sons with autism. They’re 13, and while one loves swimming and elevators, the other has a fantastic memory and plays the trombone beautifully.”
As we read through the messages during dinner at our favorite taco joint, I noticed Max’s face brighten with each story. “Amsterdam! That’s the capital of the Netherlands,” he exclaimed after reading a note from a family in Europe.
“My younger son is autistic too. He’s eight, loves soccer, and is obsessed with Minecraft. He’s so kind and fun! You’re not alone!”
Some bravely shared their own experiences. “I have autism too. I’m 25 and have my challenges, but I’ve also achieved a lot and love who I am. He’s definitely not alone.”
All week long, Max would ask for my phone to check the comments. Every time, his face lit up with joy. “My amazing 11-year-old daughter has autism and ADHD—she feels alone even when surrounded by friends.”
What I’ve learned is that autism casts a wide net, sometimes capturing more than one individual in a family, while at other times, it selects just one.
“I have two wonderful boys on the spectrum. Autism is just a part of who they are, like having brown eyes or freckles.”
One morning, while I was checking emails, Max hovered over my shoulder, eager for iTunes access. Yet again, he was drawn into the Facebook thread filled with pictures, stories, and descriptions of kids and adults on the spectrum. Then he paused.
“Joe Cariello!” he exclaimed. “That’s Dad!”
I squinted at the screen, spotting a heartfelt message at the bottom: “Hi Max. My son has autism, and I’ve cherished him since the day he came into this world.”
At first, I thought “million” was just a playful way to describe the many responses to a simple blog post. But I was mistaken. It’s not just a number.
A million is confusion, fear, and joy. It’s boys from Michigan and girls from Utah, it’s a 13-year-old with an extraordinary voice. It’s the rage and disappointments faced, the moments of grace and unity shared. It’s the family dinners filled with tension while Max struggles with something as mundane as the color of his squash.
It’s also about the joyful memories—the Disney films, the stunning creativity, and the incredible gifts that come from those who are different. A million represents both abundance and scarcity. But on some days, it’s simply about two brothers exploring life’s ups and downs together, laughing under a brilliant blue sky.
Summary:
In this heartfelt reflection, Emma shares her journey of parenting a son with autism, highlighting the struggles and triumphs they face. Through social media, she discovers a supportive community that reassures her son, Max, that he is not alone in his experiences. The blog emphasizes the beauty and challenges of autism, illustrating how shared stories can bring hope and connection to those navigating the spectrum.