Open Letter To My Child With Autism

I had always dreamed of being a mother. I imagined the face of my future son in every detail: the color of his father’s eyes, my smile, his grandmother’s hair, the height of his grandfather… For me, motherhood has always been something as natural as breathing. But when my dream finally came true, it didn’t go as planned. My mind had never been touched by the idea of ​​having a child with autism.

I wanted to scream, kick and curse the world. Why me? What will become of him? Will I have to see him suffer? A cascade of emotions and questions crowded inside me. So I decided to write this letter to tell him everything I feel, because with autism or without, my love for him is growing every day.

Welcome to a world that’s not for you

My dear son,

I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I know, I know, I’m your mother and she’s supposed to have more or less well planned out. He’s supposed to have made a list of the closest schools you might be attending and looked for a good one. She doesn’t need to be the best, I’m not one of those mothers, but I would look for a good education for you. I’d have the camera ready for every show you do at school and spend the afternoons helping you with your science projects, because that’s what loving mothers do.

What does this mean? Yes, I know you are only two years old, but it seems that we have lost our way. I want to do a good job as a mother. I want to give you all possible opportunities. I want you to be ready to fight among the best in this very competitive world we live in, because although I’m not one of those mothers, I want you to follow in my footsteps and be successful in your studies.

As I said, I am supposed to know what to do, that I know every step of the way. Whether he thought about extracurricular activities, private tutors, the football team, piano lessons… I had literally written down the details of your upbringing and instruction before heading to the caesarean. So, you see, I knew what to do every step of the way.

And then yesterday came the diagnosis: you have autism. Now I feel like the two of us together have been stranded. As if a current of waves hit us hard in the middle of a storm and we could only get carried away. I’m not trying to scare you. But I have no idea what to do now: there aren’t many manuals on educating children with autism… And I have a lot of questions.

Last night I tried not to cry. I was in mourning saying goodbye to the doctor you can never be, the basketball star you won’t become. I cried for girlfriends, jobs and achievements you won’t experience. I felt devastated for the future, because none of the pieces fit together.

But you know what? Do you know what I think now as I write this letter? To hell with all those expectations – you wouldn’t meet them anyway, even if maybe later. And I should have learned in the same way to be a good mother to you, to your needs and wants.

I mean, have you seen those children who are prepared from childhood to be doctors? And then do you know what are the themes that some of them use in their PhDs? Do you think the world needs more experts on the topic of “Breeding habits of Pitbulls with some resistance to antibiotics”? I guess these questions seem odd to you, after all you are only two years old.

I realized that I had this plan for you, even if you accepted it (even if you made this mistake), it would not be a guarantee. And do you know what else I understand? That you are not boring at all. You are sweet, kind and bright.

You will run across the room to kiss me and solve problems your way. And you will also take the cat to hug him violently when he tries to run away from you, and we actually have to work on that, but it is something that makes me very proud. And yes, you are my child with autism, but you are also unique and genuine. So why am I crying over plans that have been shattered when they never really existed?

In the end, of course, your future is still unknown. But based on what little I know, I am starting to think that you will be a happy, independent and fulfilled adult. Because the diagnosis has not meant that I have ceased to see in you the intelligence and the exceptionality that fascinate me.

From now on, this very morning, hope will emerge that you will be treated like any other fickle, unreasonable, emotional, reactive, explosive, bizarre and temperamental child. Over the next few years, I will cross my fingers rather than complain, right next to mothers of neurotic children, when you change your mind about snacking in kindergarten. I will want to see you discover snails and bury them as a treasure, inexplicably still alive, as children without autism do.

I mean, my love, having autism is not an insurmountable obstacle to greatness, success or normality. And I expect that as you grow up it will continue to be like this. You are affectionate and witty; you are stubborn, resilient and determined. You’re capable. The future holds bright things for you. And despite what we learned yesterday, I consider myself a lucky person because of all the children I may have had, I have you.

We have you, my love. And together we will find out how to move forward.

Having a child with autism is rediscovering the world

Although the first time knowing that you have a child with autism can be dramatic, the reality of the diagnosis is not as bad as you think. Having a child with autism simply teaches them to rediscover the world, through their eyes and their genuine way of relating.

An autistic child is like any other child, but with a different way of relating to the environment. If you also have a child with autism, you will realize that with early intervention they can have a good life. With your support, your child will follow his own path, in which he will certainly find happiness.

Author’s Note: Article based on Shannon Gelo Greenstein’s “An Open Letter to My Newly Diagnosed Autistic Son”.