When my son, Ethan, who is autistic, was just four years old, he decided to snack on a foam puzzle while I was enjoying a quick shower. When I emerged, he looked at me with his big, blue eyes, seemingly unfazed by his unusual choice of snack. I, however, was anything but calm.
“Why on earth would you do that?” I asked, panic creeping into my voice.
He gazed back at me, head tilted, not a hint of concern on his face.
“Are you a goat now?” I exclaimed, frustration bubbling over.
He simply stared back, his expression unreadable.
In that moment, I was left wondering how to communicate effectively with a child who was unable to speak. I shook my head firmly at him. “NO!” I said, gesturing to the remains of the foam. “NO EAT!”
He mimicked my headshake, an innocent imitation that only added to my worries. Shortly after, I bundled him and his brother into their winter gear and made a trip to the Children’s Emergency Room.
The doctors reassured me that the foam wouldn’t cause much harm, but they decided to admit Ethan for a day of observation. Perhaps they felt sympathy for me, a pregnant mom juggling two toddlers, one with a proclivity for chewing on plastic. I didn’t mention my six-year-old daughter who was waiting at school, because sometimes, it’s just too much to handle.
While Ethan was in the hospital, I desperately sought a psychiatric consultation. My initial attempts were less than graceful—let’s just say there was a bit of a tantrum involved. Eventually, I managed to articulate my request more calmly, and to my surprise, the resident agreed to arrange for a child psychiatrist to come speak with us.
Since Ethan’s diagnosis at age two, we had explored various therapies, from speech to occupational support. I often felt overwhelmed, paralyzed by the idea of “fixing” his behaviors. There were days when I found myself overwhelmed, rocking back and forth in a corner, and other days when I was busy crafting therapy plans to address his habits. But we had never consulted a child psychiatrist, and I had so many questions.
The psychiatrist was straightforward yet compassionate. He spoke candidly about Ethan’s condition, which was becoming more prominent in media discussions. “Your son has classic autism. There is no cure. Anyone claiming they ‘cured’ their child simply didn’t have a child with autism. It’s that simple.”
Rather than feeling disheartened, a wave of relief washed over me. I realized then that I was tired of battling an invisible enemy—an enemy I couldn’t even see, let alone quantify. The struggle was exhausting.
What I had been hesitant to admit, and what many might find uncomfortable to hear, was that Ethan didn’t seem unhappy with his diagnosis. In fact, he appeared content, almost joyful.
From that moment on, I resolved to stop trying to change who my son was. That didn’t mean I eliminated therapy or support; I still sought the best opportunities for him and set boundaries when needed. It simply meant I adjusted my expectations to align with his abilities. Ultimately, I wanted Ethan to thrive as his authentic self.
I began to accept autism as an aspect of Ethan’s identity, much like his blue eyes and love for all things foam. Instead of fighting against autism, I invited it into our lives with open arms—well, on the condition that it behaved itself.
This approach feels right for me. I understand it may not work for everyone; some parents might perceive it as surrender or weakness. However, for me, it feels like moving forward.
I don’t mind if others disagree with my perspective. The autistic community is fragmented enough already. My acceptance of Ethan’s diagnosis shouldn’t be a point of contention. We are all mothers of children who may flap, jump, wander, or make others uncomfortable.
Instead of becoming divided over vaccines, diets, or acceptance, let’s focus on what truly unites us. We can channel our energy into something more productive, like a collective disdain for Jenny McCarthy—now, doesn’t that feel better?
This article was originally published on April 23, 2014.
For more insightful articles on navigating parenthood, be sure to explore our other blog posts, such as one on home insemination techniques, which you can find here. Additionally, if you’re interested in learning more about artificial insemination, check out this resource for helpful insights. If you’re seeking a broader understanding of fertility and pregnancy, this Wikipedia page is an excellent resource.
In summary, my journey with Ethan taught me the importance of acceptance and understanding in our lives. By embracing autism as part of who he is, I found a path toward nurturing his unique strengths and celebrating his individuality.