The Special Ed

My son was diagnosed with autism when he was three. The doctor said the words gently, as if delivering bad news. But I didn't see it as bad news. I saw it as an explanation.\n\nNow I understood why he didn't make eye contact. Why he lined up his toys in perfect rows. Why he screamed when his routine changed.\n\n"I'll give you some resources," the doctor said.\n\n"I don't need resources," I said. "I need to understand my son. And I will."\n\nThe early years were hard. Therapies, appointments, IEP meetings. He didn't speak until he was four. I spent nights crying, not out of sadness, but out of fear for his future.\n\nBut then something wonderful happened: he started talking. Simple words at first. "More." "Help." "Mom."\n\nThen sentences.\n\n"You are my favorite," he said one day, completely out of the blue.\n\n"Why?" I asked.\n\n"Because you understand me."\n\nHe's twelve now. He still struggles with social cues and loud noises. He still needs routine. But he's also brilliant. He can solve complex math problems in his head. He remembers everything he reads. He has a sense of humor that catches me off guard.\n\nAnd he knows he's loved. Thoroughly, completely, unconditionally loved.\n\nAutism isn't a tragedy. It's a different way of being in the world. And I'm grateful I get to see the world through his eyes.