My Child is Autistic. What Now?

I didn't cry the day C was officially diagnosed with Autism. I mostly already knew that he would be. I mean, there was a tiny part of me that hoped they'd say no, it was something else, something easily remedied, something that could be addressed and then filed away in his past. On the other hand, in my mind, Autism wasn't The Worst Thing ™.

The Worst Thing™ would be not having my son with me. I had faced that possibility and was given a reprieve when he was only a month old. Autism we would deal with.

I took to my blog (because that's what we did in 2007) and wrote a few lines about the diagnosis, my anger that he had another Thing challenging him, and my fear about where this new road would lead our family.  Someone commented (because that's what we did in 2007), with words that would be my lifeline in the weeks, months, and years to come.

She said, "Chico is still the same kid he was yesterday. His diagnosis doesn't change that."

Simple, yes? Profound? Yes.

The statement was profound for one simple reason. It was the opposite of the doomsday predictions we were getting from every side. Everyone from the Educational Psychologist to that Speaks group were highlighting all the deficits C was likely to have, the challenges he would surely face, and the milestones he was unlikely to reach. Fair enough... some of those things were true.

But that one mum of an autistic child was the only one who was reinforcing my suspicion that Autism was not the end of the world. Chico was (is) still the kid who'd sit with me and read a story, who was exhibiting the first signs of his artistic gifts, who loved splashing in water and watching Spongebob and playing on the computer. 

He was still here.

Ever since, I have tried to be that mom to other parents whose children are recently diagnosed. Before I offer whatever advice they are seeking, I make sure they know. Autism is A Thing. It is not The Worst Thing, or even a Terrible Thing.

If your child has been diagnosed, whether you were expecting it or not, whether you are fearful or not,  remember this:

Your child is still there. They are still the same person they were before this diagnosis. The things you love about them have not changed. Their lives have value. They will find happiness. They will have accomplishments. This road can be beautiful.

They (and you) can do this.