Learning a New Language ♾️

Understanding My Child Through Autism

Before the diagnosis, it was like I was trying to read a book written in a language I didn’t speak.

My son has always been super intelligent, jovial, and full of life. But there were signs. The meltdowns that seemed excessive. The inconsistent eye contact or the inability to follow where you’re pointing. The way certain textures or sounds triggers him while other kids barely noticed. Or even his high tolerance for pain (because of his dare devil ways, we’ve had MANY chats about him only getting ONE neck in life😩). And let’s not even get into the challenges of transitions. That’s a blog post all on its own.

But I wasn’t confused because something was “wrong”, I was confused because I couldn’t figure out how to meet him where he was. It felt like we were standing on opposite sides of a thick, soundproof wall. I could see him, reach for him, love him gingerly, but I couldn’t always get through to him. And that would tear me up.

Then came the word: Autism.

I didn’t cry right away. I nodded and smiled as the doctor ran down a whole list of to-do’s, appointments to set, people to meet, blah blah blah blah. Overwhelmed was truly an understatement. There had been multiple specialists who speculated but this was confirmation. Confirmation that my child was in fact on the spectrum and would come to face unforeseen challenges in life.

I replayed our entire journey in my head like it was a movie I missed the first half of. Was I too hard on him that last meltdown? Is touching your food in order to see if it’s “safe” to eat, really that big of a deal? Are social cues about space, touching, and empathy ever going to come to him?

But after all that, I finally realized something…

This wasn’t a prison sentence for him (or me). It was a translation.

It was the beginning of learning a whole new language—his language. Not to fix him. Not to force him to be like other kids. But to finally see the world through his eyes.

So I’m listening differently.

I’m paying attention to what brings him joy, what overwhelms him, what routines make him feel safe.

I’ve decided to celebrate the things most people overlook—him focusing long enough to dress himself, trying a new food, one minute of eye contact, his silliness being his way of making himself feel safe (even if it’s not so appropriate for the moment).

I also need to unlearn some things, too.

That “normal” is a myth. Like what is normal anyway???!

That comparison is the thief of peace. My baby is very special and now he can really be the superhero he believes he is!

That love doesn’t always have to look like hugs and conversations—it can look like lining up toys in a perfect row or flapping your arms when you’re excited. And I can’t lie, those flaps do make my heart flutter😊.

This is just the beginning. Of a life of learning, patience, and support.

Some days I’m sure I’ll feel like I’ve cracked the code. While others, I may feel like I’m right back at square one. But no matter what, the “language” that he speaks isn’t broken or wrong. It’s just different. And it’s beautiful in its own way.

This journey won’t be easy. Especially doing it solo. But I’ll be damned if I let the world dictate who my child is supposed to be. His possibilities are endless!

We may speak different languages sometimes—but our love? That’s fluent.