So many of these ‘autism martyr parent’ books are positioned as a ‘love letter’ to their autistic kids.
I’m autistic, I feel love, very deeply and the way I feel about my kids, who are both also autistic, doesn’t even come close to what those people write. So. Just to put it out there (and with their express permission) this is how *I* would write a love letter to my kids.
Dear 5 and 10,
You may not know it yet, but you are the brightest, most amazing things in my life. You teach me something new almost every day. You bring me laughter, joy, deep-thought, and so many experiences that I could never enumerate them all.
Whether the ‘something new’ is something I didn’t know about myself, something I didn’t know about you, or some sort of random fact I didn’t know about dinosaurs (in your case 5) or how manga is drawn and what undertale is (in your case 10)… I know, waking up every morning that life with you two will invariably teach me something new.
I love that so much about you both.
5? I love storytime at bedtime, because we learn something new together then too, your choices for stories are usually encyclopedias of some sort, we’re working on the illustrated encyclopedia of animals with you, and the joy you express at all the new information we find out every night is a highlight of my days.
10? You’ve moved on from having us read your stories now, and it’s bittersweet in a way I think most parents probably feel. I’m so proud that the love of reading to yourself has finally bitten you, and that you’ve found fanfic and horror stories that you love all by yourself. You make me so proud on a regular basis, and I try to make sure you know that.
I do miss the days when we got to read stories to you. But hopefully, our commitment to early literacy has helped you find your own joy in learning and love of reading.
Regardless, it’s wonderful to talk to you about the kinds of books and stories you love, and even what you don’t love about them. It’s a beautiful thing for me to share with you, and I thank you for that.
One of the things I love best about both of you is that given time and support, you get to where you want to be. One of my favorite examples of this with you, 5 is that you love chocolate milk. One day, you decided you wanted to learn how to make it yourself, and after just one lesson, you were making it for everyone.
You continue to do this to this day, and it’s such a wonderful thing to see the joy in your eyes when you ask if someone else in our family would like a glass of milk.
10? Gaming with you is so much fun, I miss the days when you wanted to game only with us, but at the same time, I’m so happy that you’re finding friends of your own to game with. Those kinds of bonds and memories will be wonderful ones for you as you get older.
I know that the memories of the bullying you faced at your former school are fading, and I am so grateful for that. Even with how much it cost me personally to move, you my dear, are well worth any cost I could ever bear to have you in my life.
It’s nice, to know that you’re going to school in a safe place, where they actually have no tolerance for bullying. So many places pay lip service to that, but seeing you thrive at a school that actually backs it up is so amazing.
Even if you do hate math. It’s okay, I hate it too.
I love how thoughtful and caring both of you can be, when you’re not pulled into a special interest. When you are, I love that I need to remind you to eat, because in so many ways, you’re so much like your dad and me.
I look forward, so much, to seeing what you both will grow up to become. I hope that by then, the world is a better and safer place for autistics. And I promise both of you, even if you won’t read this until you’re adults, or maybe never…
I won’t stop fighting for you. I love you both with all of my heart and I celebrate everything that you are. Forever.