As a mother to a child on the autism spectrum, my life took a turn I was somewhat prepared for. My son received his diagnosis at two years old, a moment I anticipated rather than dreaded. There was no denial; we had been observing signs for a while. Monthly check-ups transformed into quarterly visits, and those dreaded ASQ questionnaires (I really don’t miss them) became a regular part of our routine, alongside a pediatrician who recognized the signs.
Reflecting on those early days, I can pinpoint several subtle indicators. In his infancy, I noticed his limited eye contact; he often gazed at the wall or the ceiling fan instead of my face. At the time, though, I was not overly alarmed.
Things shifted around six months when he developed an aversion to food. We tried every strategy imaginable: singing, dancing, changing the setting from high chair to floor, and even free-range eating. Force-feeding was strictly off the table, and just getting him to touch the food was a battle. With only about a 5% success rate, I felt like I was failing as a parent. Shouldn’t kids naturally want to eat?
The stress and anxiety were overwhelming. Eventually, I reached a point of acceptance—realizing I couldn’t control everything. I stopped losing my temper during feeding times and learned to let go of my expectations for “normal.” This shift in perspective allowed me to be a better and more resilient mother.
At my son’s 12-month check-up, the ASQ questionnaire was brutal. Questions like “Does your child imitate sounds?” and “Can he follow simple commands?” resulted in far too many “no” answers. That day, our pediatrician mentioned “possible autism,” and I couldn’t hold back the tears. The worry about my son’s future weighed heavily on me, but it also propelled us into early intervention. In our town, this meant monthly visits from a speech therapist and an occupational therapist, each for just one hour.
We also searched for private therapy options, which were scarce and often had long waiting lists. After some searching, I found a clinic an hour away for weekly occupational therapy sessions until closer options became available.
One week after his second birthday, my son was officially diagnosed with autism. I finally had answers and resources to help him. Instead of feeling ashamed, I was motivated to learn everything I could about ASD. I ordered books, manuals (sometimes I question my sanity regarding that), and sought out community support. Unfortunately, the few options available were disappointing. I longed for connections with other mothers who understood what I was going through.
I joined several autism support groups online. While there were moments of kindness, these spaces often felt more combative than supportive. Despite the negativity, I gained insights into the diversity of the autism spectrum. I realized I was not alone, but the draining atmosphere ultimately led me to disconnect from those groups.
As time went on, social outings became increasingly stressful. I often found myself explaining that my son wasn’t ignoring anyone; he could hear perfectly well. I plastered on a smile while listening to well-meaning yet overwhelming advice. Thankfully, I encountered some folks who genuinely tried to understand and support us, and I am grateful for their kindness.
It became clear to me that many people don’t truly understand autism. Too often, individuals believe they grasp it after meeting just one autistic child. The spectrum is vast and cannot be summed up in a few words. To comprehend autism, one must live it and experience its complexities.
At first glance, my child appears like any typical toddler. He’s full of smiles, laughter, and affection. He loves vehicles, the outdoors, and has a knack for spinning anything he can get his hands on. While he has just one spoken word, “bye,” he effectively communicates his needs in other ways. However, he has only slept through the night a handful of times. His sensory experiences are distinct from those of neurotypical children.
Then there’s the challenge of feeding. Our kitchen cabinet is a minefield of sippy cups, most of which he finds intolerable. His diet includes a limited selection of snacks, and a toddler formula is his primary source of nutrition. Many foods, especially those that are wet or squishy, are simply off-limits for him. After nearly two years of occupational therapy focused on feeding, we’re slowly making progress, but it’s frustratingly slow.
I often wonder if my son will ever eat a varied diet. The questions and worries about his health and future are endless. Still, I choose to remain hopeful and patient, doing everything I can to support his progression. It’s a journey filled with ups and downs, and it’s all I can do to take it one step at a time.
Autism touches every aspect of our lives. My experiences may seem mild compared to others, but the challenges are real. Many parents grapple with their children’s struggles, feeling defeated when situations become overwhelming. We fight for necessary services, often facing obstacles like unavailability or unaffordability. Some even contend with partners who are in denial about the need for help (thankfully, my husband has been incredibly supportive). Balancing work with therapy and doctor appointments feels like navigating rapids.
We fight for our children tirelessly. The fight is relentless, but we never lose hope. Our kids are our hearts, and we are committed to keeping their lights shining brightly.
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Summary
Navigating the autism spectrum with my son has been a complex journey filled with challenges and moments of joy. From early signs to diagnosis and ongoing therapies, our experiences highlight the importance of understanding and support for families affected by autism. Despite the difficulties, we remain hopeful and committed to helping our child thrive.
Keyphrase: Autism spectrum journey
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