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My son was just eighteen months old when I first suspected he might be autistic. Walker was always quite different from his older brother; I expressed this to my mother the day he was born. It took me a while to recognize those differences as autism. Because his presentation is somewhat atypical, I struggled to get the necessary experts to evaluate him. Finally, just before his third birthday, we received the diagnosis I had sensed all along.
Our boy is autistic. As it turns out, I knew my child better than anyone else. I felt proud of myself for advocating for him, but when we finally had the diagnosis in hand, I experienced an emotional rollercoaster—not for the reasons you might expect.
I wasn’t grieving the child I thought I would have. Walker, just as he is, is the child I have always known and the only version of him I could ever desire. I wasn’t trying to process what his future might hold; he will carve out his own path, just like any other child.
Instead, I was overwhelmed by my own ignorance. I had no idea what he would need, and I doubted whether I was equipped to adequately raise a neurodivergent child. I felt he deserved a mother who could keep everything organized—appointments, information, and a home filled with Montessori toys and sensory bins. Walker should have a mom who prepared organic meals and ensured he had the best therapies available.
But instead, he was getting me: a mother whose life is chaotic, with a house cluttered with plastic dinosaurs and frozen chicken nuggets. He was stuck with a mom who sometimes forgets appointments until the night before when the doctor’s office calls. He got a mom who once sent her oldest child to preschool in a giraffe costume because she forgot it was Brown Day and that was the only brown outfit we had.
I couldn’t provide him with everything he might need. All I could offer was love and a commitment to learn and get him what he requires. Would that be sufficient?
To this day, I try to be careful about where I source my information on autism. I had no idea how much wisdom autistic adults would be willing to share with me. The emotional labor they undertake to advocate for autistic children is one of the most remarkable discoveries I’ve made on this journey. Most of what I know about Walker comes from these incredible individuals. If I had known they would be there to support me, I probably wouldn’t have worried at all.
Recently, a follower asked a well-known actress how she would “cope” if her child was diagnosed with autism. Her response struck a chord with me: “How I cope? I don’t see being on the spectrum as a negative thing. My husband is my favorite person I’ve ever met. He’s kind, hilarious, interesting, and talented, and I admire him. Am I supposed to hope my child isn’t like that?” YES! Thank you for that perspective. The spectrum is filled with extraordinary, creative individuals who enrich our world in ways neurotypical minds may not conceive. Some of history’s greatest thinkers may have been autistic. If society were to move beyond the notion that different is lesser, we could better accommodate autistic individuals and appreciate their contributions without forcing them into a neurotypical mold.
When I mention that Walker is autistic, I often encounter pity. Yes, pity. Can you believe it? “Oh, I’m so sorry. He seems so normal to me!”
First of all, he is normal. Seriously, what does normal even mean? He is exactly who he is meant to be. Being autistic is just one aspect of his identity. Secondly, that’s not a compliment. Walker is under no obligation to appear “normal.” And lastly, spare me your pity! I feel privileged to raise the most delightful, intelligent, quirky child alive. He deserves to live in a home where he is celebrated for all that he is, without feeling pressured to conform to a society designed for neurotypical individuals.
I do have to manage his little-boy antics. I could certainly use some advice on dealing with the mud, grass, bugs, and dandelions he brings inside. If anyone has tips on instilling a healthy sense of caution in both of my sons to prevent their daring escapades from turning my hair gray, I’m all ears.
But I’ve never needed assistance coping with Walker’s diagnosis. I initially believed I would have to do many things to help him succeed, but I realized he primarily needs time, space, and the freedom to navigate life in his own unique way. I can provide that!
The joy we share is immense. He flourishes at his own pace, and I get the privilege of witnessing all his remarkable attributes. His intelligence and humor constantly astound me, and I feel fortunate to be one of the few who sees the many dimensions of his character.
I understand that autism manifests differently in each individual. The spectrum is vast, and my son’s experience is not representative of all autistic individuals. Some parents may feel grief or loss upon learning their child is autistic, but I don’t believe that makes them bad parents. They may be absorbing information from organizations that portray autism as daunting and hopeless. Like me, they may simply be misinformed about autism and its realities. They might notice their child struggling and worry that life will always be challenging for them. It’s a complex situation.
But for me, there was nothing to cope with except my own uncertainties. Once I recognized that I could be the mom Walker needs, I began to truly learn. For me, there was no need to cope; there was only the privilege of raising a child who has as much to teach me as I could ever hope to impart to him.
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Summary
The author reflects on her journey of raising her autistic son, Walker, emphasizing the importance of understanding, acceptance, and advocacy. She challenges societal perceptions of autism and highlights the joy of parenting a neurodivergent child, focusing on love and support rather than pity.
Keyphrase: autism acceptance
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