Time and again, I encounter the notion of “gifts of autism.” Perhaps it’s because my child is on a different part of the spectrum, or maybe I’m just a bit of a realist, but I rarely use that phrase in our household. I recognize that my child has unique gifts stemming from his autism, yet for us, it’s more like a daily challenge that we work tirelessly to navigate.
While I wouldn’t label autism as a gift, I can say it has certainly shifted my perspective. Am I grateful for the struggles my child faces simply so that I can gain insight? Absolutely not. I wouldn’t wish his challenges on anyone, not ever. To me, autism is neither a blessing nor a curse; it simply exists as part of our reality.
I believe that our experience as parents of kids on the spectrum (or any special needs, really) is marked by extraordinary highs and profound lows. I can’t quite capture the elation of witnessing my four-and-a-half-year-old master the art of using a spoon for the first time. Remember how thrilled you felt when your toddler first wielded a spoon? Now, amplify that excitement by four years of waiting and hard work. We’ve spent countless hours with an occupational therapist, practicing the coordination needed to scoop food without creating a mess. My heart swells every time I watch him eat independently—something I took for granted with my eldest.
After many sessions of speech therapy and endless practice at home, hearing him form a coherent sentence feels like a miracle. There were moments when he struggled to find the words, and I felt his frustration as if he were trapped inside himself. When he finally communicates his fears, needs, and feelings, it fills me with pride for something so many overlook.
Even a simple 30-minute grocery store trip feels like a marathon victory. I share our successes because we’ve endured enough outings that ended in tears—both his and mine. We’ve left countless half-filled carts in the aisles, unable to face the judgmental gazes of others. So, when we have a good day without tears, I’m going to celebrate like I just crossed the finish line!
Then there are the nights… oh, the nights. I can’t adequately express how hopeless I’ve felt during the tough times. Not just the sleeplessness, but the meltdowns, the screams, and the moments when I felt like he was battling something unfathomable. On those nights, I have never felt more isolated. But now, while he still doesn’t sleep through the night, he usually returns to sleep within an hour after waking up—without the chaos that used to ensue. Trust me, that’s a blessing I never knew I needed.
The ups and downs extend to our hopes for the future, too. After receiving his diagnosis and prognosis, I mourned the life I imagined for him. Will he ever play sports, live independently, attend college, or start a family? It’s a heavy reality that weighs on us daily. Yet, amidst that mourning, I find glimmers of hope. Each small step forward in language or new skills mastered fills my heart with joy. Even just seeing him happy on the good days brings me incomparable delight. I believe that with hard work and determination, we’ll make it through, even if “making it” looks different than I once envisioned.
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In summary, special needs parenting is a journey of extreme highs and lows, filled with challenges that can lead to miraculous moments of joy and growth. Through every struggle, we find hope and strength, knowing that our path may be different, but it’s uniquely ours.