Autism in our home is beautiful. It’s funny. It’s love. It’s acceptance. It’s hard. Some days, it’s really hard.
Our day starts out with our son Logan, getting up way before the sun rises. Children with autism very rarely get a full night’s sleep—but truth be told, this does not stop him one. Single. Bit. He gets ready for school: breakfast, change of clothes, brush teeth, backpack, and finally, gets in the car. We do not stray from this order.
I have three sons. My middle son, Logan, bears the diagnosis. We had two choices: accept and embrace it, or to run and hide from it. We chose acceptance. We haven’t been displeased with our choice in the least. We spend a lot of extra time trying to keep him on task and up to speed with his peers. Logan is in mainstream kindergarten this year and we couldn’t be more excited.
Logan’s diagnosis changed all of our lives, but solely for the better. Autism is in our home. We love it, hug it, and embrace it. My one in 50 is one in a million to me. I am blessed beyond measure. My son has autism, but autism does not have him.
By Kimberly Kindle, mom of David, 12, Logan, 5, and Nathan, 4