The autist

I saw a documentary once about an autistic child, narrated by his father. In it, the father said that learning your child has autism is like getting kicked in the stomach. But it wasn't like that for me.

Learning my daughter was on the autism spectrum wasn't sudden or sharp. It was the logical end of months and months of growing anxiety and pressing down panic. In the end, when the diagnosis came, it was more of a relief, because at least now we had a name to our fears.

Learning your daughter has autism is not like being kicked in the stomach. It's like wading through a thick marsh, up to your hips in thick reeds and muck, trying to reach a burning house on the other side. It's knowing that the house is already on fire, and that you have no bucket, no hose, no shovel with which to throw sand. But you struggle forward anyway, because there is always some hope; whatever miracle will be required, there is always hope.

There is always hope.

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