Dear Nate: A Letter to My Autistic Son on His 18th Birthday
Dear Nate,
Today you woke up a grown man.
Your well-loved Chucky doll sat on the desk in your room, watching over you while you slept. Your school yearbook lay open in its spot next to your bed, turned to the page featuring your beloved girlfriend. Your Stranger Things and Pennywise posters gleamed from their spots on your bedroom walls, and your collection of PJ Masks action figures littered the floor, creating a minefield for anyone brave enough to walk across your carpet.
You went to sleep last night still my little boy, and today you woke up a beard-having, sleep-loving, paycheck-earning 18-year-old adult, and I’m not sure what to think or how to feel about it.
You came into the world late on a hot summer night eighteen years ago with scrawny arms, spindly legs, and a bald head that glowed orange when the light hit it the right way. It would take several months for your red hair to grow enough to be discernable without direct sunlight, but even on day one your carrot top caught the attention of everyone who met you.
You were a quiet and sleepy baby who only cried when you had to be in the car, and you completed our family perfectly. Your older brother Isaac adored you from the beginning, and your dad and I were ecstatic to add another little boy to our family. We settled into life as a family of four, and we’ve never looked back.
It wasn’t long before we began to notice you weren’t developing the way Isaac had, or the way the books told us you should, and we started to worry. By the time you were 9 months old we were already fighting for you to get the help you needed, and by a year old you were receiving special services to support your development.
I admit I struggled with your emerging disability in those early years, and shed more than my share of tears. I grieved for the child I had envisioned when your dad and I decided to expand our family. I feared for our family’s well-being and I worried about what the future held for you. It mostly feels like wasted energy at this point, but at the time the feelings were real, and they were overwhelming. I’m sincerely sorry if I ever once made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or were disappointing to me in any way. It turns out I still had learning to do about disability and ableism, and so I set out to learn.
I hope you will forgive the sadness and fear I experienced in those early years and believe me when I say you were always good enough exactly as you are. Your snuggliness, your wide-mouthed and toothless grin, your deep belly laughs, your glowing orange hair. You were the full package even as an infant, and I have adored you from the beginning.
As you got older and more of your personality began to emerge, it could sometimes be challenging to keep you safe and happy. As soon as you could crawl you seemed to have the uncanny ability to find the most dangerous item in any room, and to go after it relentlessly. You loved to chew on and eat non-food items when no one was watching, and I quickly committed the poison control phone number to memory. You hated to sit still for any amount of time, and even expensive, specially designed car seat buckles couldn’t keep you in your seat. You explored your world in wonderful and chaotic ways, and you and I spent your preschool and elementary school years working together to find the balance between your love of exploration and messiness and my need for safety and order. I appreciate your patience while I came to see the beauty of the way you learn in the world, and am more grateful than I could ever explain that I got to spend years seeing life through your young eyes.
As time went on and you approached adolescence, you continued to be unabashedly yourself at every turn. Wherever you went, chaos followed, but so too did people who adored you. Your charm, charisma and humor were contagious from your youngest years, and friends and family couldn’t get enough of you. Your difficulties with communication meant that you often needed support to sustain the relationships around you, but you never once lacked for people who thought you were the coolest kid around.
Speaking of communication, after over ten years of weekly speech therapy, as you entered middle school you gradually started being able to use spoken language more effectively to communicate with the people around you. You developed the vocabulary you’d expect of anyone learning to talk in adolescence, and you suddenly found yourself with dozens of new ways to tell your parents and teachers exactly how you felt about us. While other parents were lamenting the backtalk of their budding teenagers, I watched you learn the power of words like “hate you” and “shut up” and “poop” with giddy delight. We always knew you had so much going on in your head, and more opinions than you knew what to do with, so seeing you finally being able to express yourself was breathtaking.
Eventually, high school came, and along with it your full-blown teenagerhood. Almost overnight your silky soft cheeks were replaced with ginger stubble, and your little boy voice that we had so recently gotten to know turned deep and gravelly. Your passion for horror movies intensified, and more and more you preferred Chucky and Pennywise over Scooby Doo and Cat Boy. Sometimes I struggle to relate to your love of terror, but the hours spent snuggled under a blanket watching gory and violent horror movies with you will forever be some of my warmest and coziest memories. You sharing what you’re passionate about is one of the ways you show your love to me, and it makes my heart sing when you include me in your world.
With high school also came romance, and you have shown yourself to be an attentive, doting boyfriend over the past few years. You found a young woman who laughs at every single one of your antics and shenanigans, who looks at you like you’re the only guy in the world, and who complements you perfectly in dozens of ways. You have plans to get married and start a family one day, and already know what food you want to serve at your future wedding. You haven’t told your girlfriend about all your plans yet, but you have time and you’ll get there. You are committed and loyal and gentle and kind to her, and when I watch you two together I feel like I’ve done something incredibly right as your mom.
High school is almost over now, and it will soon be time to decide what you do next. I’d be lying if I said I’m not feeling some of the old fear I carried so many years ago. I don’t know what adulthood looks like for you, and how to make sure your dreams come true, but there is no greater honor than spending the rest of my life helping you live the life of your choosing. I know that you are brave, you are strong, you are funny, you are smart, you are driven and opinionated and passionate. You will make the rules, set your pace, and forge your path, just as you always have. And just as I always have, I vow to be right next to you when you need me, doing what I can to help, but mostly just standing back and watching you shine.
I also vow to loosen my grip, to let you go when you’re ready, and to recognize your right to the dignity of adulthood. It is getting closer to a time when your life won’t be so closely wrapped up with mine, when you might have your own home and a world that doesn’t involve snuggling with your mom and watching horror movies. It won’t be easy for either of us, but I will do my best to give you the space you need to make your own choices and mistakes, and to be the man you want to be. If I know you, there are endless twists, turns and unexpected delights ahead, and I can’t wait to have a second-row seat to all that happens next.
Today you woke up a grown man, and as I stood in your cluttered bedroom full of posters, yearbooks, and toys, I felt a bittersweet combination of pride, gratitude and awe. I can’t believe how far we’ve come, and also how far we still have left to go. I can’t believe I ever thought you weren’t exactly the child I wanted. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you mine.
Happy birthday to the young man who made our family complete, and who makes me proud every single day. I love you more than you will ever know.
Love always and forever,
Your mom
