Dear Lucas,
As I write this letter, I know you may never read it, and that’s okay. I have so much I want to share with you, but at just 7 years old, I feel it may be overwhelming. Instead, I’ll share these thoughts with the world.
If I had the ability to change some things for you, I would do so in a heartbeat. However, my role isn’t to alter the past—it’s to ensure your present and future are as bright as they can be.
I can only imagine the silent battles you face each day. I may never fully grasp the depth of your confusion or how your mind interprets the world around you. The constant stimming that sometimes lasts for days, followed by periods of calm, is a mystery to me. It pains me deeply to know you might be struggling in ways I cannot see or understand. I wish I could step into your shoes for just a moment, but true understanding will come only when you are able to express it to me.
It breaks my heart to see other kids tease or mock you. I do my best to educate your peers, hoping they will become more aware and supportive as you grow up together. My greatest hope is that you remain shielded from their hurtful remarks. You are such a joyful spirit, and I refuse to let the negative opinions of others—especially those of kids who should be your friends—dull your bright outlook on life. Just last week, I noticed a boy making fun of how you spoke. You were blissfully unaware, but I wasn’t. After explaining things to him, I had to hold back tears until we were safely in the car. I try to stay strong for you, but sometimes, my emotional armor cracks.
It’s been just the two of us since you were a toddler. I regret that your father isn’t in the picture. I wish you could have one of those amazing dads that other kids have. I remember how long it took to explain to you why you didn’t have a dad, especially as you started noticing the differences. But look at us—we’re doing just fine. We have each other, and you have the most wonderful Grandma in the world.
I know we argue about food. I get it; you’d love to live on chips and candy. But I make you eat healthier meals because I love you and want you to thrive. Let’s put those food fights behind us; one day you’ll see that I’m looking out for your best interests (though you might not agree).
I adore you, but I often find myself frustrated with autism. I detest the challenges you face in silence, the relentless worry that fills my heart, and the struggle to secure the resources you need for a better life. I especially can’t stand the judgment from those who don’t understand you, who form opinions based on a single outburst. To those critical people, just know—I’m not here for your negativity.
You are an incredibly strong and resilient boy, inspiring me every single day. Your stubbornness (a trait you definitely inherited from me) sometimes leads to friction between us, but Lucas, you have my entire heart. Nothing can ever change the awe I feel for you.
With all my love,
Mom
For more insights on parenting and family-building, check out other articles on Modern Family Blog, including this one on home insemination options, which can be a valuable resource for those considering family expansion.