“You must love him differently,” she said. I looked at her, curious, caught off guard by the words.
“Why?” I asked softly.
“Because he needs you so much more than the other two. Because of the autism.”
Her words hung in the air. I didn’t know what to say at first. She went there—directly, without fear or hesitation. I smiled, steadying myself, and said, “I love him because he’s mine. I don’t love him any more, any less, or any differently than his brothers. Autism has never changed a thing about my love for him.”
I love him because he made me a mom. I prayed for him. I spent nine months imagining him, dreaming of his little face, his tiny hands. And oh, good God, he was perfect the moment he arrived.
I love him because he loves me so fiercely. I love him because he might be my little boy forever. I might wash his feet, scrub his hair, and care for him long past the age a mama usually should. The thought of growing old together almost broke me—but now I see the beauty in it, the sacredness of a bond so deep and enduring.
I love him for teaching me how to be his mom. He guided me patiently through every step, showing me the way even when I stumbled.
I love him because he smells like the wind and dirt. I love him because I’m certain he sees and hears things that others don’t—he sees sounds, hears colors, and feels love, joy, anger, and sadness more intensely than anyone else I know.
I love him because he wakes me every morning with his hand on my cheek, then gently adjusting my glasses, followed by a cheerful wave, as if he hasn’t seen me for days or weeks.
I love him because he says “M-O-M” three hundred and fifty times a day. He shows me his trains with pride, grabs my hand to twirl and dance, follows me everywhere, and waits at the window until I return.
I love him because he adores paper, photos, cookies, Capri Suns, elephants, tractors, and license plates. I love him because he can negotiate, persuade, and even bribe without uttering a single word.
I love him because he is more himself than anyone I’ve ever met. I love him because every single day is the best day of his life. I love him because he works tirelessly to belong in a world that often feels confusing, harsh, and unyielding—and yet, he keeps trying.
I don’t love him differently because of autism. I love him exactly the way he needs me to. That’s all there is to it. Simple. Absolute. Unconditional.
