Telling Jace

I remember the early days, navigating through all of the emotions. They were clouded by the rush and hustle of finding services, making appointments, and filling out the mounds of paperwork. I would be checking my boxes one by one day after day and in the middle of pouring a bowl of cereal, it would hit me.

What do I tell him?

You see, in some ways… although Paislie was much more severely affected, the emotional part felt easier. She didn’t care that she had autism. She was happy and content living in a world where she was queen and where songs played loud and images of herself in the mirror filled her cup.

But Jace. He wanted to fit in. He wanted to please and to be liked and to feel normal. What would I say? How would I explain to him that he had Autism? I put pressure on myself to make that conversation go smoothly. I wanted him to feel loved and accepted exactly for who he was. Do I make it a big deal or don’t I? To me, he was my greatest treasure. My firstborn baby boy and the love of my life. I remember wanting him to feel like he was “normal” and like everyone else… but that wasn’t true. And I knew he would know that… from an early age I could tell he knew he was different.

Autism wasn’t a dirty word in our house. It was used a lot and I started to assume he picked up on the fact that that’s why there were therapists there every day, or why we had to do interviews with case managers and social workers.

One day, as I was digging through a folder from his sister's preschool, I saw him across the room in his blue and white soft and stretchy Hanna Andersson pajamas that he never wanted to take off… and I said, “Jace… you know that you have autism right?”

He said “no? What is auktism?”

Butterflies filled my tummy. “Let me tell you! It is what makes you special!”

“Really?”

I told him how some people have brown hair and some have blonde. Some have glasses and some don’t. Some struggle and need extra help with reading, and some can read very easily. Some people have what we call a “typical” brain, and some people have something called “autism.” I explained how God created us with many strengths and we talked about what his were. We talked about how autism may have had an effect on him.

“You can read really well and remember everything. Autism helps you with that!”

“Cool!”

“You also struggle understanding language. Autism makes that more difficult for you.”

“Oh, I see.”

I asked him how he felt knowing that… and as happy as the most positive kid I have ever met could be, he said “great!”

Having conversations like this is what makes parenting a child with a disability so different. I have never had to sit down and break the news to my typical child that there was something that made her different. I wish that was the same for him. If I had treated it the same as some will say I should, I would have missed out on being the person to help him make it all make sense.

Someone somewhere will say it. I wanted it to be me.

I don’t know what stage you are in in your journey, or if you have ever been in these shoes, but the talk revealing the diagnosis is really just the beginning. From that point on, we started to learn and identify things as they were happening and if we thought autism played a role. After all, autism is a special part of him, but it isn’t all of him. The conversation will never be over. But now that we can freely talk about it, we can cheer him on in his wins and help him with his struggles in a more meaningful way.

Jace knows he has autism. He wishes he didn’t. He wishes he was normal. He wishes kids would want to be his friend. He tells me. But he also celebrates the gifts God has given him. He is the kindest, most gentle, loving, considerate boy I have ever known and I couldn’t be more proud of him.

Is there a “right way” to tell your child? No way. Every child is different and mom knows best. You know their heart, how to communicate with them, how they will likely receive the news, and how they need to be told. You will know how to support them, how to encourage them, how to offer them help, and how to cheer for them.

I am so thankful that we can be open as a family. God has gifted each of our children uniquely and we are in awe of the tiny masterpieces He is creating. We will spend our lives celebrating Jace and Paislie AND their autism every day.

I know that this journey is hard. It is. But mama… go let your child know, and celebrate your baby too. Just as they are.