Autism “professionals” tell me you need a lot of help and intervention.
NOW, before the window closes. They say.
They meet you and talk of deficits. They check boxes and tally scores.
You are not a thing in need of fixing.
They are really missing out, these people who cannot see how perfectly amazing you truly are.
You communicate with your eyes and with your whole body.
You laugh mischievously from deep within your belly.
You are so busy at play and in near constant motion.
You love to feel the ground with your bare feet, preferring to avoid shoes and experience the textures and sounds with your small toes tapping rhythmically on each surface.
You carry the iPad on your shoulder like a boom box, running and dancing to your favorite songs.
You love to inhale deeply and hold one of your beloved books close to your face, breathing in the scent and remembering it.
You love to run amongst the creeks and dirt near the playground, preferring the calmness of the perimeter to the crowded slides.
You look closely at your food and turn it, admiring it from every angle as you take a bite.
You nestle books under your arm as you fall asleep.
You have a preferred spot on the couch and not so subtly push me to the side with your feet if I sit there.
You enjoy having things your way and have no problem letting us know.
You run past me as you play, stopping sometimes to lean in for a kiss on the head.You carry armfuls of books and your cherished toy laptop almost everywhere you go.
You wake a lot during the night and sleep often eludes you.
Every piece of furniture is a trampoline and a jungle gym.
Outside, you are a blur in the sun racing towards whatever catches your eye, curls dancing in the wind.
You love deep pressure and tight bear hugs.
In the next room right now, I hear you running and stomping. You love the hardwood floor echoes of our new house.
I love the way you play and the way you laugh.
I love the way you move throughout the world, unapologetically and with unbridled fervor.
Please know there is nothing wrong with you. Not even a little bit.
You are incredible and strong and bright.
You know your mind and aren’t afraid to share it.
You are a stimmy and happy child who leaves me breathless with love. Someone who, like your siblings, I can’t help but feel undeserving of parenting.
You speak no words, yet you say so much.
You are so many things, but not one part of you is broken.