My son was eighteen months old when I first suspected he might be autistic. From the moment he was born, I noticed he was quite different from his older sibling. It took time for me to connect those differences with autism, especially since his symptoms were somewhat atypical. After a prolonged effort, we finally received the diagnosis just before his third birthday. Our boy is autistic, and I had known it all along. I felt proud for advocating for him, yet when we got the official diagnosis, I experienced a whirlwind of emotions—not for the reasons you might assume.
I wasn’t grieving the child I thought I should have. Walker, as he is, is the only child I could ever wish for. I wasn’t concerned about what his future might hold; like any other child, he will carve out his own path.
Instead, I felt overwhelmed by my own lack of knowledge. I had no clue what he would need, or if I was equipped to raise a neurodivergent child. I worried he deserved a mom who could keep everything organized, someone with a tidy home and a dedicated space filled with Montessori toys and sensory bins. Walker deserved the best, while I felt like a chaotic mess with a house cluttered with plastic dinosaurs and frozen chicken nuggets.
I couldn’t provide him with everything I thought he needed, but I could give him all my love and a commitment to learn and support him. Would that be enough?
Since Walker’s diagnosis, I’ve been intentional about where I gather information about autism. I had no idea that many autistic adults would share valuable insights with me. Their willingness to advocate for autistic children has been one of the most enlightening aspects of my journey. I often find myself learning from these adults, and if I had known about their support, I might not have worried at all.
Recently, a follower asked comedian Jamie Lee how she would “handle” her son’s autism diagnosis. Her reply struck a chord with me. She said, “I don’t see being on the spectrum as a negative thing. My husband is a wonderful person, and why wouldn’t I want my son to be like him?” YES. Thank you, Jamie. The spectrum is rich with incredible, creative individuals who contribute uniquely to our world. Some historical geniuses were likely autistic. If society could move past the notion that being different is a deficit, we could better accommodate autistic people and appreciate their remarkable contributions when we let them be themselves.
When I mention Walker’s autism, I often get responses filled with pity. PITY. Can you believe it? “Oh, I’m sorry. He seems so normal!” Seriously? First of all, he is normal. What does “normal” even mean? He is exactly who he’s meant to be. Being autistic is just as normal as anything else. Secondly, Walker is in no way obligated to conform to someone else’s idea of what he should seem like. And lastly, spare me your pity! I’m privileged to raise one of the funniest, most brilliant, and quirky kids around. He deserves a home where he is celebrated for who he is, not forced to conform to neurotypical standards.
I certainly have to “cope” with his antics. I sometimes wish I had tips for managing the mud, grass, and bugs he brings inside. If anyone has advice on instilling some healthy caution in both my sons, I’m all ears! But I’ve never felt the need to “cope” with Walker’s diagnosis itself.
I thought I needed to provide a lot to help Walker thrive, but what he truly needs is time, space, and the freedom to do things his own way. I can give him that! The joy we share is immense. He gets to grow at his own pace, and I cherish every moment of watching him shine. His intelligence and humor constantly amaze me, and I feel lucky to see all the layers of his personality.
I understand that autism can manifest differently in each individual. The spectrum is wide, and my son doesn’t represent every autistic person. Some parents might experience grief with their child’s diagnosis, which doesn’t make them bad parents. They might be influenced by organizations that portray autism negatively. Perhaps they simply lack accurate information and see their child struggle, worrying about their future. I recognize it’s a complex situation.
For me, I didn’t need to cope with anything other than my own uncertainties. Once I realized I could be the mom Walker needs, I embraced the opportunity to learn. There was nothing to cope with; just the honor of raising a child who has as much to teach me as I could ever hope to impart to him.
The author uses identity-first language as recommended by autistic adults. For more information, check out this insightful article from the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network. If you’re interested in related topics, you might want to explore one of our other blog posts here.