Before Lucas entered our world, I had a very different view of what it meant to be a special needs parent and those misconceptions shaped my understanding of other families in ways I never realized.

Having a non-verbal child in our home has taught me a lot about special needs parenting, autism appreciation, and understanding the nuances of raising a child with different forms of communication.

Because of that, many parents like me can often forget what life was like before then. When I say that I remember what it was like before Lucas, I mean that I remember what I thought about a father who might be in my situation. I can recall my misconceptions.

There was a general sense of grief that would come with observing a child struggling to understand his parents or the parents struggling to control his or her impulses. I’d steal glances from across the aisle at Target or try not to look when there was a shout in an otherwise quiet waiting room. I believed that even acknowledging their actions in a neutral way might come across as judgmental or intrusive.

The main thought often centered around pity for the parents, imagining how hard their lives must be. There are so many things they will miss out on. My brain would create a list of milestones that will be left unreached and I’d envision a life spent doing nothing more than caring for a person who, I assumed, didn’t even realize it.

Today, I don’t pity that father. I am that father. I know that, even if everyone doesn’t see us that way, some do. That’s why I write these posts. That’s why I address those misconceptions.

And make no mistake – they are misconceptions. Everything I saw and thought before my son was born was based on assumptions and misunderstandings. Most, but not all, were incorrect. If I could share one piece of advice with others, it would be to let go of the milestones society sets and instead celebrate the unique journey your child is on.

As an observer, I grieved over the idea of milestones missed. Little League, prom, or other traditional rites of passage all felt lost for these parents. But today, I see that Lucas doesn’t care about these things, and because of that, neither do I. Instead, I celebrate the milestones that matter to him, like learning a new word or mastering a skill.

It would be the same if my neurotypical daughter didn’t want to do those things. I would accept it and embrace the things she enjoys. That’s what being a parent is all about. You foster the things they like. You don’t push the things they should be doing on them.

Another false belief is that my day is spent taking care of Lucas. Don’t get me wrong, my day is spent taking care of Lucas. I’m not even saying that it’s easy. Many days, it’s not.

However, Lucas doesn’t have a monopoly on my time. My day is spent taking care of everyone. Everyone in my life gets prioritized and, just as I might have to help him brush his teeth or tie his shoes, I drop everything to drive my daughter to school or make sure her lunch is ready. The people I love receive my attention.

Work done to make their lives better isn’t something overwhelming or a burden. As time goes on, it becomes less about work and more about love. It’s simply what we do for each other as a family.

In fact, with Lucas, it’s even easier because I know he genuinely needs me. He’s not a sneaky little guy trying to make me do extra work. He may not show appreciation in the traditional sense for everything that’s done, but he honestly needs me. No one makes me feel more important than he does.

The biggest difference between seeing a special needs parent and being one is the bond you have with your child. Watching a dad at Shoprite trying to interact with his non-verbal son doesn’t capture the private moments they have which build their relationship. You can’t understand the love they share because you’re not a part of it.

I can. The relationship that Lucas and I have goes beyond something you can look at from afar. It’s constantly building upon itself and makes the difficult times less difficult. It makes the small victories all the more rewarding.

Special needs parenting isn’t what you think it is. In some ways, it’s harder. In other ways, it’s better. Overall, though, it’s a deeply personal journey that defies assumptions and stereotypes. For anyone observing a special needs parent, remember that what you see in public is only a small part of their story. Behind every struggle is a bond you can’t imagine and victories you might never notice.

Lucas has taught me that love, paired with patience and understanding, doesn’t just conquer. It transforms. And I wouldn’t trade that transformation for anything.