One of the reasons I write about autism appreciation is because I’m aware of how easily it could have slipped by. Looking back on the journey I’ve taken alongside my non-verbal son, I take nothing for granted. The relationship we have today could have easily slipped through our fingers.

Do you know how tempting it would be for me to pretend otherwise? I could write 100 pages about how I never doubted my son or my ability to raise him. I could offer flowery passages about holding him in my arms during his earliest days and knowing we could handle anything together.

But that would be a lie. It might make me seem saintly in hindsight, but it would also be a lie that hurts those who are going through the same struggle right now.

It would trivialize the work we’ve done, the path we’ve taken, and the ways we’ve grown. That’s why it’s important for me to acknowledge our early days together.

Being a special needs parent seems like something that only a select few are able to do. After all, we handle such different challenges. Situations that parents deal with in neurotypical families last much longer for moms and dads like me. I’m tying shoes and cutting up food a full decade after most parents are done.

Those are just the more obvious responsibilities, but I do them all. Raising a boy like mine takes dedication and understanding. By the same token, issues like broken hearts, skipping school, or sneaking a can of hard seltzer from my fridge to drink with his little drama buddies at some Suffolk County party don’t come up either. He’s different from others around his age group, and our relationship showcases that.

So when you see me and Lucas out, laughing in Target or walking hand-in-hand through a packed mall, you might assume that this is something I always knew I could do. After all, why would I have a special needs child if I didn’t know how to raise one, right?

When you think about that for a minute, you realize the humor of it. Being a special needs parent comes with no training, application, or approval process. You just have a kid. The special needs come after.

Not only did Lucas’s special needs come later, but they didn’t come all at once. Learning your child has what many call a “disability” is a slow burn. It starts small and then gains momentum at a breakneck pace.

It began with a delay. I saw that Lucas wasn’t sitting or crawling at the same pace as everyone else. That led to in-home physical therapy visits for my tiny little guy. We zeroed in immediately and credited all the professionals for getting ahead of the problem early.

A funny thing happened while working on the physical delay. What happened? Everything happened when we realized that nothing was happening.

Suddenly, the delays piled up. While we were correcting his movement, we noticed that words and other actions weren’t happening either. Soon, there were occupational therapists, speech teachers, and special education professionals coming into the house. My days were filled with experts who ranged from geniuses to… not. We needed a revolving door. My hand got tired from signing off on so many sessions.

And all I could think was, “What the hell am I going to do?”

That’s the truth. I tell you that because I owe it to you. To pretend like I never worried we would fail would be nonsense for the sake of self-gratification. I was terrified we would fail.

Luckily, we didn’t. Sure, we had to switch the definition of success a bit. Success, in 2013, was “talking.” If Lucas could talk, walk, and care for himself fully, we’d have achieved something. Anything less felt like it would be a disaster.

Yet, many of the things I silently demanded never happened. In 13 years of life, Lucas has never said a single word on purpose. Had I known that a decade ago, I’m worried I would have lost my mind.

That’s because, just as I mentioned at the start, Lucas was a baby back then. I had no idea what his personality would be. He, like many his age, was a silent little butterball person. He looked at me with wide eyes and rolled around on the floor.

He didn’t have a personality yet. We shared no memories, favorite songs, or stories. There was nothing to him at that point. That’s why the future needed verbal language for me to consider it positive.

I didn’t know the boy who lives here now. I had no idea my life would change so drastically and, in many instances, he would be the smiling ray of sunshine on my darkest days. I never imagined he’d offer hugs and kisses when I needed them most, at an age when most kids start to become standoffish. There was no realization that autism, despite the scare tactics doctors and professionals spout, could affect a person’s personality in such a beautiful way.

And that’s where we are now. I see it, know it, and live it every single day. It took having a child like Lucas to learn this, and I’m so grateful I did.