The day I received my son’s autism diagnosis remains etched in my memory. We were seated on a couch, anxiously awaiting the psychologist’s insights after having read the evaluation ourselves. As she detailed the findings, the words “He displays numerous characteristics of Autism Spectrum Disorder” echoed in my mind, devoid of any empathy or warmth. While I had anticipated this outcome, hearing it spoken aloud felt profoundly different.
After leaving the office, my husband and I sat in silence over lunch, each grappling with our emotions. I reached out to a dear friend with a simple message: “I need you.” It’s hard to believe that this moment occurred a year ago. Time has flown and dragged simultaneously; I am no longer that woman who felt as though her world had crumbled.
This past year has been one of learning, adjustment, and growth. My husband and I committed ourselves to understanding autism and how to support our son. He has been attending therapy sessions and occupational therapy tailored to address his sensory processing challenges. Music therapy has become part of his routine, and we have chosen a cautious approach to medication, trusting our psychiatrist’s guidance. To help him manage his sensory needs, we acquired a trampoline and chewy sticks, as he often finds solace in the act of chewing on Legos. We eliminated food dyes from his diet and enrolled him in a Montessori school, allowing him to learn at his pace. Most importantly, we have come to truly know him and how to nurture and love him as he is.
The emotional landscape of this year has been tumultuous. I have shed tears of fear and sorrow, knowing he is aware of his differences. In my attempts to shield him from feelings of inadequacy, I’ve made efforts to normalize his unique behaviors, anxieties, and frequent meltdowns. I’ve wished he could remain unaware of his diagnosis.
It has often felt isolating. My husband and I navigate our lives like hostages to our son’s unpredictability, never knowing if our plans will hold or if his anxiety will dictate otherwise. With the exception of school, one of us is always present with him; trustworthy caregivers are scarce, and those available often struggle to manage him during challenging moments. I find it difficult to convey our reality to parents of typically developing children, who might offer advice that simply does not apply to our circumstances.
My son is a wonderful child, with the appearance of a typical American boy, but underneath lies a complex mind that sometimes spirals into confusion. I’ve endured judgmental glances from strangers during what we refer to as his “epic meltdowns.” I am not a negligent parent raising a spoiled child; rather, I am a dedicated parent nurturing a child with unique challenges. I confess that I once judged other parents in similar situations, but now I approach them with compassion, recognizing they too are doing their best.
There have been moments when I’ve felt overwhelmed, declaring, “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t what I signed up for.” At times, I’ve even contemplated escaping my struggles. Yet, remarkably, most days I find gratitude. I am thankful for my son, who pushes me to become a better, more empathetic person. He has helped me discover a self-worth I had never experienced before. He views me as his safe haven, and in turn, he has become mine. He has shown me resilience, and I no longer fear the “what ifs” because I am living them—and I am coping just fine. He has anchored me in ways I never thought possible, even revitalizing my marriage, allowing my husband and me to reconnect as partners after years of struggle.
He has taught me that greatness can be found even in the comfort of our suburban home. I have learned to persistently seek answers and connect with those who can help us. My family has been fortunate to find healthcare providers and educators who support not only my son but all of us.
Above all, acceptance has been my greatest lesson this year. I may not understand why my son insists on wearing shorts even in winter, or how he can recount events from his early childhood, or why he can detect the smell of dog food from three rooms away. I don’t fully grasp his extraordinary memory for details about superheroes, Legos, and Minecraft, or why he sings constantly and resists trying new foods. His list of unique traits continues to grow, and I embrace them wholeheartedly. Instead of fixating on the ‘why,’ I focus on how we can navigate and adapt to our reality together. I accept him as he is and love him unconditionally.
Before writing this, I looked up the term “spectrum” out of curiosity. I found a definition that resonated deeply with me: “A spectrum is a condition that is not limited to a specific set of values but can vary infinitely within a continuum.” Initially, I perceived the term as simply a label, but reflecting on it revealed that if a spectrum represents a continuum, then aren’t we all somewhere within that rainbow? Each of us possesses our own uniqueness, and some may shine brighter than others, depending on perspective.
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