For new parents of children with special needs, many jarring moments happen almost right away. There are feelings you can’t explain and fears you can’t understand. It’s all a very hazy time.

When my son was first diagnosed with autism, I was scared. That’s an easy thing to say and is what most people expect from parents like me. As the father to a non-verbal teenager with what some would call “severe autism,” saying I was afraid when I learned about it seems to be a good way to put it.

However, it’s not entirely true. Beyond being an oversimplification, it’s flawed thinking in many ways.

For starters, I wasn’t scared when Lucas was diagnosed. I’ve heard of parents being relieved or angry when they hear those words. I felt none of it. By the time they were ready to assign a word to it, I had already anticipated it.

My baby boy struggled from the start, and every milestone I watched his sister breeze past became a frustrating game of deep concern. Deep down, I knew it was coming.

It wasn’t the diagnosis that rocked me as much as the steps we took in response to it. The therapists in our home, sprawled out on the living room floor with paperwork to sign, scared me. The alternate forms of communication scared me. Going to an autism nursery school orientation scared me. Those were the things that brought concern to me.

My concern was that by reacting to being told he had autism, I was giving it credence and, essentially, giving up on him. To me, an autism diagnosis for my two-year-old wasn’t an actual diagnosis. It was a warning. Doctors were simply guessing because he still hadn’t spoken and they had to tell us something. If only he could talk, they’d take it back, and we’d have a party with cake.

This was on me. I had to teach him. It would shock them all.

The irony of this mindset is that I was putting so much pressure on myself to “fix” something out of my control. The reason why I need to do this so badly?

I had no faith in myself to raise a non-verbal child. None. In my mind, I had to make him become a different person because I could never be able to adequately care for the person they all said he was.

A decade later, I can honestly say that I had it half right. Someone had to change after that diagnosis, but that person wasn’t Lucas.

Since those early years, I’ve done all the things people expect from parents like me. I’ve learned to accept his delays and challenges. I don’t search for reasons why he has autism or try to blame anyone. I talk openly about my son’s autism and shine a light on the beautiful aspects of his unique personality.

I also found faith in myself. I learned that I wouldn’t fail him, although I worried I might. Beyond meeting his basic needs, I’ve worked to give him a life of happiness and love. Lucas knows I love him, and I know he loves me. That’s something, in those early years, I never thought I’d be able to say.

Where did I find this confidence to care for my non-verbal son? I found it from my non-verbal son.

Lucas is the most straightforward person I’ve ever known. When he’s tired, he lays down. If he’s hungry, he taps me for food, no matter what’s going on around us. He cries when he’s sad. He laughs when he’s happy. No one is more in tune with their feelings than my son, and his feelings burn brighter than anyone else’s I’ve ever seen. It’s amazing.

So, when Lucas loves you, it’s real. When he was little and demanding food, waiting for the meal to cook brought a meltdown. He wasn’t sure if he’s ever eat and, if he wasn’t served immediately, he didn’t understand that it would come.

He doesn’t do that anymore. He trusts me and knows that, even without words, I know what he needs. I don’t dismiss him or try to narrate him. Rather, I calm him and assure him that things will be OK. I just know him, and together, we’ve got this.

The man I am today is both for Lucas and because of him. Without him, I wouldn’t have been challenged to trust myself with the difficult tasks of raising a non-verbal child with autism, nor would I have believed I was capable of doing it.

Words aren’t needed. Smiles on his face and our unspoken bond tell me I’ve done things right. We’ve been on an incredible journey together. The people we’ve grown into along the way have been our greatest reward. I’ve become the father I am today because I love my son, and he loves me for the father I’ve grown to be.