There’s an interesting paradox that comes with saying you have a non-verbal child. The term “non-verbal” is simultaneously unimportant and the most important thing in the world.

You find this out early when you avoid telling people. During Lucas’s younger days, I would simply mention my son and leave it at that. His language status felt unimportant until conversations turned to his school life or more typical interests like Pokémon. Then, revealing he’s non-verbal after a lengthy chat, I’d sense the sudden shift in the air. This made me wonder about others’ perceptions – did they think I was embarrassed or in denial?

I realized that while I was trying to present Lucas as just my son, not mentioning his non-verbal aspect had the opposite effect. It’s a crucial detail in social interactions, yet not the defining aspect of his identity. Over time, I’ve learned that Lucas, though non-verbal, communicates effectively through gestures and devices. We understand each other well, even without words.

Still, I can’t help but think that verbal communication would make things easier. This journey has taught me that the essence of communication transcends words. People with the most words don’t always have much to say, and those like Lucas, who speak in different ways, can convey just as much.

Still, while not the most crucial necessity in his life, words would definitely make his life so much easier.

If he could just say “food” during times of stress rather than me trying to remember when he last ate as he leads me by the hand into the kitchen, I could get more done in more time. He’d get what he wants and I wouldn’t have to play Columbo when the communication iPad is out of reach.

All that being said, it seems obvious that my New Year’s resolution for Lucas would be to get him to speak, right?

It’s not.

For years, my primary goal was to encourage Lucas to say actual words. It seemed like the most crucial milestone, overshadowing others in its importance. Teachers would ask what we want him to learn and all we would say was language. Many a parent conference would end with, “OK. So we have talking, speaking, and learning words. But is there anything else? What’s that? Oh, yes. Talking, You said that. That was the first one.”

Nothing else made sense. Maybe it was because back then and especially now, I would lead by saying he was non-verbal. That piece of information is most important for those who don’t know him to understand how he handles the world. So the fact that it came out of my mouth first, seemed like such a deficit and was viewed as a problem to those who heard it, made it a dire issue in need of fixing.

I saw it that way. Every year, I’d make silent deals with whatever was listening above to help him overcome this issue. If only he spoke this year…or next year…or the year after…all would be OK.

Yet, here we are. It’s many years after and after and after and he’s not speaking. And guess what. All is OK.

Getting my son to use real words has been a want rather than a need for years. It’s not dire or critical to his life. It’s a goal and a hopeful future. Yet, there are so many things I hope for him in the new year that transcends making sounds with his mouth that people equate to things, actions, or ideas

I want Lucas to be happy. That’s the top resolution. I want him to enjoy his life and know that he’s loved no matter where he is. I want him to smile when he sees me and know that every move I make is with his best interests at heart. That’s a resolution.

Beyond that, I want him to know that he can count on his sister. I go out of my way to have her hand him food or drinks when she’s in the room and I have him do the same for her. I have him ask her for the things he needs when the opportunity presents itself. He needs to know that he has people and he needs to know who those people are.

Something that was always important back then and especially now, is that she knows he’s her brother and loves her. He might not show it the same as others, but he shows it. He’s her brother, not her burden. The things that my daughter does for him today and tomorrow will be things she wants to do out of love. I don’t want her to feel stuck doing it if no one else is around at the moment…even if she’s stuck doing it because no one else is around at the moment. When you love someone, you don’t feel put out, even when you are.

I want Lucas to be social with his friends. Watching him blossom into a boy who enjoys the company of others fills me with joy. We see it during his outings with Christian and he’s gone from apathetic parallel play to a kid who initiates laughs and smiles. It’s beyond anything I thought he’d ever do and something that has grown over time.

Help around the house. Learn life skills. Get a more stable sleep and food schedule. These are just a few hopes for the upcoming twelve months. Is language on that list? Sure. Where? It’s not at the top. It is a happy possible surprise, but in no way does it define who he is or will be.

The reason why is that Lucas is more than the way he communicates. It was true back then and especially now. Lucas is an incredible boy with autism, brimming with potential. Focusing solely on his challenges overshadows his remarkable abilities and the joy he brings. The words he doesn’t say and might never say aren’t equal to the wonderful things he can do now and will do in the coming year.