I Thought the World Would Judge My Son. It Didn’t.

I remember a time before Autism Awareness. And no, I’m not talking about March.

Growing up, we didn’t have much information in terms of autism. It was portrayed like a superpower in Rain Man. It was portrayed like a burden in after-school specials. It was hard to wrap your head around any of it.

Because of all that, I was seriously worried when my son was first diagnosed at two. I was going to have to take this kid into the world. It was a world that, like me, knew nothing about autism.

One of the first things Lucas learned was how to clap. We all teach our babies how to clap. My guy loved it. He did it all the time. Morning, noon, and night, Lucas clapped his hands together with a sense of enthusiasm most kids save for Chuck E. Cheese.

Not Lucas, he clapped with excitement, and we encouraged it. Go, Lucas! Clap!

So he did.

And did.

And did.

Soon, it was constant. We’d be in a quiet waiting area, and I’d find myself trying to hold his hands or put mine in between his to soften the sound. I’d look around while trying to play defense against my toddler’s clapping game.

My biggest fear? Someone would say something rude, and I’d have to defend something that I didn’t understand.

No one ever did. Honestly. One time, a member of my extended family-in-law told Lucas to use his “inside voice” following a shriek at Thanksgiving. That’s it.

I always credited autism awareness for this. It allows me to bring my boy out and not have to fight a team of agitators questioning his every stim.

Those stims have grown since simple clapping. Today, Lucas will hop and scream with delight. I love it and, again, I don’t see anyone looking.

Although, truth be told, I’m not looking at them either.

Honestly, the entire floor of TJ Maxx could be glaring at us, and I wouldn’t know. That’s just how things have been. I no longer worry about what others think, and I don’t really notice them unless I need to.

A quiet doctor’s office? Lucas needs to be quiet. Standing in line at AdventureLand? Clap away. A school concert for his sister? Quiet. Mosh pit at a Danzig concert? Clap away, headbanger.

That lack of worry on my part is, in many ways, due to those early years. I scanned every room like an apex Autism Dad predator. If anyone made one slight glance at him, I was ready.

In many ways, you could say that realizing how few people questioned Lucas made me feel less alone in the world. I’m not just talking about as an Autism Parent. I mean in general. It gave me this renewed faith in humanity.

So when April comes around and everyone starts debating acceptance vs. appreciation, a one-month celebration vs. a year-long commitment, or any of that, I happily accept that there’s a spotlight on people like Lucas.

Being nonverbal, Lucas doesn’t have a voice in the traditional sense. That’s why I try to tell our story every week. I want the world to know this special kid and realize that profound autism doesn’t just take away from a person. In my son’s case, it helps contribute to his beautiful and pure personality.

In turn, everything from blue hearts to April promos help to remind people about those like Lucas. Thank you for not staring, but also don’t make him invisible.

My son is not invisible. There are so many things that I have learned about myself from having him in my life. I want nothing more than for the world to see that too.

Be aware of him. Accept him. Appreciate him. Not just this month, but always.

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