It began as a faint murmur in my heart. Something feels off. Why doesn’t he look at me? Shouldn’t he seem more engaged? Are all boys like this? If I were a better mother, I would know.
For months, I brushed off these concerns, distracting myself with playdates, preparing the nursery for my second son, planning a family getaway, and convincing myself that my firstborn would eventually catch up. Boys develop slower than girls, right? He will speak. He’s just introspective. He’s shy. He’s simply stubborn. The blame fell squarely on me. Had I read to him enough? Was I choosing the wrong books? Perhaps I should’ve taught him sign language as an infant. I should have opted for organic baby food instead of the regular kind. Maybe it was all that pop music instead of classical that set him back. I should have signed him up for art classes rather than gym activities. It was my fault. The guilt was overwhelming, like an ocean in which I was drowning.
Months rolled by, and that whisper grew louder, now clearly ringing in my mind. He still isn’t talking. He avoids eye contact. He doesn’t respond to his name and struggles to express feelings. Sometimes it feels like he looks right through me. He walks on his toes, flaps his arms, and spins with excitement. Something is definitely different. Autism. I know it’s autism—I was a teacher before he was born, after all. I know the signs. It’s time to stop ignoring them.
I reached out to a local child psychologist. “I’d like to schedule an appointment for my son. He just turned two, and I suspect he might be autistic.” Saying the word felt like a heavy weight had landed on my heart. I set the appointment, hung up, curled up on the couch, and cried. My baby, my firstborn—autism. Why us? What did I do wrong?
As time passed, we found joy in our lives. We were doing well as parents. We celebrated his second birthday, and a new brother arrived, nearly born in the car on the way to the hospital. Life was good, really great. The guilt that had once drowned me began to recede, and the weight on my heart was lifted bit by bit.
Two months later, my husband and I found ourselves on a worn-out couch with our newborn sleeping between us, our toddler at home with a babysitter. Across from us sat a woman who seemed to embody the essence of seriousness. She was direct and unyielding. “Based on our discussions, assessments, and observations, I can confidently say your son has moderate autism. The tests confirm it.”
At 10:42 AM on a sunny Monday morning, everything shifted. Our family transformed. And you know what? It changed for the better. Just a minute before, I might not have believed that, but it’s true. The guilt disappeared. I didn’t cause this. Nobody did. Goodbye, ocean of guilt. Farewell, bricks on my heart.
Now we understand why my sweet son is unique. He is different, and that’s perfectly fine. My son has autism, and without it, he wouldn’t be the wonderful person he is. He’s playful, loves to tickle and wrestle with his dad before bedtime, enjoys exploring nature, and adores Elmo videos. His love for music is infectious; he dances freely at school.
Just yesterday at Target, he pulled my face into his tiny hands and planted a big, slobbery kiss on me. You might take such moments for granted, but for me, that kiss is a sign of progress, of connection, and it’s incredible. That’s something I prayed for just months ago. I wasn’t even the least bit ashamed when tears welled up in my eyes right there by the clearance Halloween costumes. He made me a mother and is teaching me to be the woman and mom I aspire to be. I wouldn’t trade him for anything.
Autism doesn’t change that. It doesn’t alter anything important.
For more insights and resources on parenting and fertility, check out Make a Mom for effective supplements and March of Dimes for week-by-week pregnancy guidance. If you’re exploring fertility options, Intracervical Insemination provides valuable resources.
Summary:
The author reflects on her journey as a mother to a son with autism. Initially plagued by guilt and self-doubt, she comes to accept and celebrate her son’s uniqueness. The diagnosis of autism shifts her perspective, leading to a deeper understanding of her child’s character and the joyful moments they share. Through this experience, she learns to embrace her role as a mother and finds happiness in their connection.