It all began as a faint whisper in my heart. Something feels off. Why doesn’t he look at me? Shouldn’t there be more connection? Is this normal for boys? If only I were a better mother, I would know.
For months, I brushed these thoughts aside, preoccupied with playdates, decorating for my second baby, planning family trips, and convincing myself he would eventually catch up. Boys develop slower than girls, I reassured myself. He’ll talk when he’s ready. He’s just shy and thoughtful. Maybe he’s just being stubborn. But deep down, I felt guilt creeping in. Was I reading to him enough? Was I choosing the right books? Should I have introduced him to sign language earlier? Maybe I should have gone for organic baby food instead of the regular stuff. I even considered that my love for pop music over classical was to blame. The guilt washed over me like a tidal wave, and I was drowning.
As time went on, that soft voice in my heart became louder. He still isn’t talking. He avoids eye contact. He doesn’t respond to his name. He struggles to express emotions and often seems to look right through me. He walks on his toes and spins in circles when he’s excited. There’s a reason for this. Autism. You know it’s autism. Remember your teaching days? You’re familiar with the signs. Stop ignoring them.
I finally reached out to a local child psychologist. “I’d like to schedule an appointment for my son. He just turned two, and I suspect he might have autism.” Hearing the word “autism” out loud felt like a heavy weight on my heart. After hanging up, I curled up on the couch and cried. My baby. My firstborn. Autism. What did I do wrong? Why us?
Life moved forward. We were happy, and we were doing our best as parents. We celebrated his second birthday, and our newborn son arrived with such enthusiasm that he nearly made his debut in the car! Life was good, truly. Gradually, the guilt that had once overwhelmed me began to fade away, and the weight on my heart lifted.
A couple of months later, I found myself sitting on a stiff couch with my husband, our newborn nestled between us, while our toddler played at home. Across from us sat a woman who looked like she could be the next star of a makeover show. She was serious, direct, and her words would forever alter our world. “Based on our discussions, the assessments, feedback from his teachers and speech therapist, and my observations here, I can confidently say your son has moderate autism.” The results were definitive.
At 10:42 AM on a bright Monday morning, everything changed. Our family was transformed, and you know what? It was for the better. Just a minute earlier, I might not have believed this, but it was true.
The guilt evaporated. I didn’t cause this. No one did. Goodbye, ocean of guilt. Farewell, heavy bricks on my heart.
Now, I understand my son better. He is unique, and that’s perfectly fine. My son has autism, and without it, he wouldn’t be who he is today. He’s playful, loves to tickle and wrestle with his dad at bedtime, enjoys outdoor adventures, and can’t get enough of Elmo videos on YouTube. He dances at school with pure joy.
Just yesterday at Target, he pulled my face close, planted a big, slobbery kiss on me, and in that moment, I realized how far we’ve come. You might see that as an everyday occurrence with your child, but for me, it was a significant step towards connection and progress. I couldn’t help but tear up right there among the Halloween costumes. He’s teaching me how to be the mom I aspire to be, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.
Autism doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change anything.
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In summary, my journey with my son has taught me that autism is just a part of who he is, and it doesn’t define him. Each day is a new opportunity for connection and joy, and I embrace every moment.