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Parenthood is full of surprises, but nothing prepared me for the day I learned my son was autistic. While there is no magic formula for special needs parenting, I’ve learned lessons that helped me find confidence and hope in a journey I never expected to take. Here are the five most important lessons I learned after my son’s autism diagnosis.
1. AUTISM IS NOT THE END
My son was flagged for autism during a routine checkup. At 18 months, he wasn’t speaking, had fine motor delays, and didn’t respond to his name. As a new mom, I didn’t realize this was out of the ordinary, so when the pediatrician mentioned autism, I was blindsided.
When my son was diagnosed at 22 months, I cried for days. I worried about his future and mourned my expectations of motherhood. I knew our life would look different in ways others might not understand.
A few days later, I spoke to another autism mom over the phone. She let me cry, validated my fears, and then said something I’ll never forget: “Autism is not a death sentence.” She reminded me that a diagnosis didn’t change who my son was or how much I loved him.
As my son began intensive therapies, I learned to focus on his strengths, not just his struggles. He had an incredible memory, a love for music, and the sweetest smile. I also noticed that I was becoming more patient, compassionate, and resilient as a parent. A diagnosis didn’t change my son, but in many ways, it changed me. There were still moments I wished our lives looked “normal,” but there were also moments of joy and gratitude I wouldn’t trade for the world. Autism wasn’t the ending I feared; it was just a different story than the one I expected.
2. GET SUPPORT EARLY
If I could give parents one piece of advice, it would be “Don’t wait.” If you have any concerns about your child’s development, seek help early. My son was referred to the Early Intervention (EI) Program when he was 18 months old. After an evaluation, my son qualified for speech, physical, and occupational therapy at no cost to our family. In just over a year, he made incredible progress. He had better coordination, used American Sign Language, and was learning to drink from a sippy cup. By the time he entered school, his therapists were some of his strongest advocates.
Nowadays, I advise as many families as possible to take advantage of EI programs.
The only caveat is time. There may be waitlists, staffing shortages, and children age out at three. Waiting too long could delay services and widen developmental gaps.
For some families, early support may require pursuing an autism diagnosis. While this can be an emotional process, it opens doors to services that are otherwise inaccessible. A formal diagnosis allowed my son to increase his speech therapy from once a week to three times a week. It also allowed him to start preschool earlier and qualify for an Individualized Education Plan (IEP).
Many parents put off seeking support out of fear or stigma. A woman I knew was advised against a diagnosis even though her child was clearly struggling. When she finally moved forward, her daughter had to wait 8 additional months and missed out on specialized services. Getting your child the help they need should never be a source of shame. Supports are not labels; they are tools to help your child grow and thrive.
3. PROGRESS LOOKS DIFFERENT
For many autistic children, skills come later, differently, or sometimes not at all. At three, my son was still in diapers and using a bottle. At first, seeing the gap was discouraging. Every unmet milestone reminded me that his life looked different. It was hard not to compare him to other children and wish he were further along. Over time, I learned to value all the progress he made, even if it took longer. Every babble and grunt had come after 40 hours of weekly therapies and tons of practice. Like many children with disabilities, my son was working twice as hard to reach the same milestones as his typical peers. His effort and resilience deserved to be celebrated, regardless of the timeline.
I once heard an autistic adult say that, despite holding a PhD and being a motivational speaker, he still struggles to button his shirt. His life reminded me that the skills we often value aren’t the ultimate measure of success. My son still can’t grasp a pencil correctly, but I no longer feel the need to compare his progress to anyone else’s. Seeing where he started and where he is now has given me a deeper appreciation for his strength and determination. No matter what his progress looks like moving forward, I am already proud.
4. PROTECT YOUR MENTAL HEALTH
A few months after my son’s diagnosis, I got into my first car accident. At the time, he had episodes where his body would freeze and become unresponsive. My husband was in the middle of a job transition, and our interim insurance hadn’t started. Our son’s neurologist ordered three days of seizure monitoring, but without active insurance, the hospital was hesitant to schedule it. I was warned that if it didn’t activate in time, we would face a $10,000 bill. Meanwhile, my son’s symptoms continued, and waiting didn’t feel like an option.
One afternoon, after hours of frustrating phone calls with the hospital and insurance company, I pulled out of a parking space at Target. Exhausted, I misjudged the angle and scraped another car. No one was hurt, but I was shaken and embarrassed at how thinly stretched I had become.
That moment was a wake-up call. I was doing my best to support my son, but my mental health was suffering. As parents, it’s easy to minimize our own needs, but that eventually limits our ability to care for our children. Self-care doesn’t need to be complicated. It can be as simple as crying to a friend, splurging on a favorite treat, or taking a few extra minutes in the shower.
For me, support came through local organizations like the Parent Network of WNY. They offered parent education, school advocacy services, and hosted events specifically for families of children with special needs. Having a resource that helped with practical challenges and offered a space for fun gave me some more breathing room.
Whatever your self-care looks like, make it intentional and consistent. Our children need us at our best, and sometimes the best way to show up for them is to take care of ourselves first.
5. YOUR RELATIONSHIPS WILL CHANGE
My son and I were once part of a playgroup. At the time, he was non-verbal and having daily meltdowns. One morning, he fixated on a toy and it triggered a severe meltdown. I got down on the floor and tried to calm him, but nothing worked. Watching my son scream and hurt himself broke my heart. Eventually, I started crying too. I was overwhelmed, desperate for another parent to offer help or encouragement, but no one did.
I finally decided to leave and carried him to the car, all while he screamed and thrashed violently. It took thirty minutes to get him into his car seat, and I knew he wouldn’t last the drive home. In desperation, I drove to the nearby house of a woman from church, even though I barely knew her. She welcomed me in, let me cry on her couch, and helped calm my son. Today, she and her family are some of my closest friends. That day shifted my connection with one group and opened the door to another.
When your child has a disability, your relationships inevitably change. Some people adapt, and the relationship deepens. Others pull away, and you grieve the loss. Declining repeated invitations because of my son made it hard to build deeper relationships. Babysitters became much harder to find. Even supportive friends sometimes felt uncomfortable, and I had to adjust my expectations.
Over time, you prioritize relationships in which your child is not just accommodated, but genuinely welcomed and loved. For my husband and me, our church became family. They visited our son during hospital stays, brought safe foods for him, and didn’t judge him during meltdowns. I also found community online by joining the WNY Safehaven for Families of Children with Special Needs. Connecting with parents who were on the same journey made me feel less alone. It may take time to find your village, but don’t give up. When you find your people, it makes all the difference.
Raising an autistic child has reshaped me as both a parent and a person. There are still hard days, but I’ve learned to celebrate progress, seek support early, protect my mental health, and invest in relationships that truly matter. Special needs parenting isn’t always easy or comfortable, but loving and advocating for your child is always worth the effort.
Christina Abraham‑Thomas is a North Tonawanda parent of two lively children. When she’s not advocating for her son, you’ll find her singing, scrapbooking, and joyfully expanding her ugly sweater collection.