How My Child WIth Autism Makes Me A Better Person

As the father to a non-verbal child with autism, I know how important it is for our family to recognize where we were, where we are, and where we plan on going. Knowing Lucas’s strengths today versus his struggles of yesterday is fundamental is seeing him as more than a list of challenges.

It’s why I write so much about autism appreciation and how his personality is beautiful, in many ways, because of, rather than despite, his autism. So much of what makes my son who he is comes from the unique way he interacts with the world. This is obvious to those who know and love him.

When I write about Lucas, though, my writing isn’t always specific to his evolution. I’m able to see the change in all of us, myself included. That’s why I never sugarcoat the reality of what I felt back in those hazy days.

It would be easy to tell you that I knew it would all be rainbows and gumdrops back when he was showing early signs of being on the spectrum. How wonderful would it make me look? I’d be Dad of the Year right from the start

That, however, would be a lie. Knowing my son could have unspecified delays or disabilities kicked at my brain constantly. I couldn’t think of anything else. One of my two favorite people on Earth was suffering. He was about to embark on a terrible journey that I brought him to. Lucas didn’t ask to be born. This was all on me.

Of course, it reads like melodrama now. Back then, though, it was so real that I can’t even explain it. I felt terrible all the time and didn’t know if I could ever forgive myself. My fears were centered around an unknown future that, no matter how it turned out, would definitely derail me.

Sure, my worries for Lucas’s future had a lot to do with him. I worried about who he would become as he grew older. That was a large part of my haunting thoughts. However, that wasn’t the real worry.

My biggest worry was about me. How the hell could I do this? How could I possibly not fail this kid?

His sister was three years older, neurotypical, and with an incredible vocabulary. She could express her feelings, avoid danger, and understand the world around her.

Yet, still, I worried I would fail her as a parent during those early years. Could you imagine how I could screw up raising a kid who, at the time, couldn’t communicate at all?

That’s who I was back then. I talked terribly to myself and, even worse, I believed it. Voices of ghosts rang out in my head, solidifying that thought. I couldn’t do it. I knew I couldn’t do it.

And now, years later, I did it. I know that I can continue to do it.

Writing about that time is like writing about a different person. I look back at my concerns over my own abilities and, today, easily offer advice that the me of a decade ago needed to hear.

That advice, amazingly, seems like common sense to me now. I say these things about how love can help any of us to build bridges of communication. I talk about the fact that Lucas is my son and nothing will ever keep me from having a relationship with him. I write about fear of the unknown can create nightmare scenarios, yet even when the worst-case scenario comes true – it’s all fine as long as you have love in your family.

I knew none of that ten years ago. I thought that raising my son was going to be impossible. Although, honestly, I thought so many things could crush me back then. While I knew I had abilities and skills, I always thought that the next “major” issue would knock me down for good.

Since my son’s birth, I have dealt with heart surgery, divorce, and strained relationships. I’ve been down roads that, before this newfound faith in my personal perseverance, would have felt insurmountable. They weren’t. I’m still here.

I credit my son with a lot of that. Lucas showed me what it truly means to be a family. He showed me the importance of being patient, understanding, and compassionate. He showed me that I’m all those things and more. He showed me that I could believe in myself and accomplish things I didn’t think I could.

For that, I want to show him the same thing. He makes me feel like a better person and I want to make him feel that way too. It’s why I want the world to see how great he is and how his autism didn’t destroy us. It defined us.