As I drive, I remind my 12-year-old son, “Just like no two snowflakes are identical, each person with autism has their own unique traits.” He’s growing more perceptive about others who share his diagnosis.
“Mom, there’s this kid in tutoring who acts strange. He just gets up and starts rummaging through the teacher’s stuff without asking,” he shares, a hint of confusion in his voice.
I nod, keeping my focus on the road, anticipating his next question.
“Does he have autism too? Do I act weird like him?”
“Everyone experiences autism differently. Remember when I explained that it’s a spectrum? Imagine it like a rainbow. Some people are at one end, looking for that pot of gold, while others are just beginning to rise from the clouds. In between, there’s a variety of journeys.”
He stares out the window, taking in my words.
“What about Charlie at school? He’s hurt other kids and has autism. I don’t do stuff like that.”
“Yes, I understand. Charlie’s autism expresses itself through aggressive behavior,” I reply, bracing for the next question. My son has a knack for cutting through the fluff, and I appreciate this quality in him.
“How do you know I have autism? If mine is so different, maybe I don’t have it at all.”
I grip the steering wheel, preparing for a crucial discussion. “Do you remember Dr. Lewis?” I ask, referring to the specialist who diagnosed him two years ago.
“Yes.”
“Think back to all those tests and questions you went through together. That assessment is specifically designed to identify autism. Based on your responses, her observations, and input from your dad and me, as well as your school, she concluded that you are indeed on the autism spectrum.”
As we drive through the rain, the windshield wipers rhythmically clearing the drops, I sense the weight of his thoughts.
“How did I get autism?” he asks.
“You don’t catch it like a cold; you’re born with it,” I say, relieved that he feels comfortable asking me these questions rather than keeping them inside.
“Why do I have it and no one else in our family does?”
“Every person is made up of chromosomes, with a mix of dominant and recessive genes. Just like how your dad has dark hair and your cousin has light. It’s the unique combination of genes that creates individual differences, even among siblings. Just like you love history while your sister prefers science. Those differences make us who we are.”
He nods, accepting my explanation as we navigate through the rain-soaked streets. My heart aches for my son, who is striving to understand his place on the autism spectrum, a challenging concept for a 12-year-old.
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Summary
This article reflects a heartfelt conversation between a mother and her son regarding autism and its unique manifestations. It emphasizes the diversity within the autism spectrum and the importance of understanding and acceptance, especially for children navigating their identities.