What’s this thing we call Autism?
Well, it’s different for every family. For us, it has been the hardest, most challenging journey we’ve ever faced—but also the most rewarding. Autism tests your patience, your strength, and your resilience almost every single day. It asks for sacrifices you never knew you could make and challenges every emotion you have. But then come the moments that make it all worthwhile: when your child reaches a milestone, big or small, or says something that might seem ordinary to others—like “mama”—and your heart swells with pride and joy. Those moments of hope are the fuel that keeps us going, pushing through the rough, the messy, and the uncertain.
Our journey with Santiago began in a way we didn’t expect. He was diagnosed at 23 months, just a month shy of his second birthday. As a first-time parent, I assumed Santiago was developing like any other toddler. But the diagnosis hit me like a lightning bolt—a mix of clarity and heartbreak. Suddenly, the question that had haunted me for months, “Why?”, finally had an answer.
Santiago was such a happy, easy-going baby. But he always seemed in his own world. Poor eye contact, an aversion to loud noises, speech regression—looking back, the signs were there. I honestly don’t know why I didn’t notice sooner. It wasn’t until he was evaluated for speech therapy that someone mentioned there might be “signs” of Autism. That was the beginning of everything changing. Weeks later, we met with a child psychologist, and life as we knew it shifted. Hearing the words “Your son has moderate to severe Autism” froze time. I felt a thousand thoughts crash at once: Will he live independently? Will he ever marry? Will he have children of his own? I wanted to break down, scream, run away from it all—but I held it in. I had to be strong for Santiago.
From that moment on, I became an advocate. I read everything I could find, researched therapies, and fought tirelessly for the support my son needed. Speech therapy, occupational therapy, child development programs, ABA—40 hours a week of early intervention. It was exhausting. Stressful. Frustrating. Calling dozens of agencies, navigating insurance hurdles—but I refused to accept “no” for an answer. This was what Santiago needed, and I was going to make it happen.
Even though he remained the same amazing little boy at heart, his world changed drastically. He adapted to the new routines and therapies better than I did—I still felt broken at times. We grieved differently: my husband, me, and even family members who struggled to accept the diagnosis. But eventually, we aligned, and with the right support, guidance, and love, Santiago began to flourish. By 3 and a half, he started vocalizing—a huge milestone for a child who once showed no interest in speech. Autism has taught me patience, resilience, advocacy, and above all, unconditional love. Santiago loves fiercely, smiles brightly, and brings joy to everyone around him. He is truly remarkable.
Fast forward a few years, and the journey hasn’t gotten easier. Santiago is now four and a half. He can speak, but not yet communicate fully—he repeats words and phrases, a classic case of echolalia. We are still working daily on expressive and receptive language, but progress is happening. Sensory sensitivities remain a challenge: loud noises can trigger instant meltdowns, so everyday appliances like vacuums and blenders are carefully timed. Despite these struggles, we are amazed by him every day. His intelligence shines, his vocabulary is growing, he’s potty trained, interacting with peers, and heading to preschool this fall. We can’t wait to see him continue to thrive.
With age comes bigger tantrums, which sometimes scare me. I worry about the future, about how the world will treat him, about bullying and judgment. But I also know that taking life one day at a time makes it a little less overwhelming. We haven’t faced harsh comments yet, and for that, I am grateful.
To anyone reading this who feels these emotions or relates in some way: you are not alone. The autism community is full of understanding, support, and hope. Remember, autism does not define your child—it is simply one part of who they are. Celebrate the milestones, no matter how small, and focus on what truly matters: love, acceptance, and happiness. All I want for Santiago is to be happy being himself. We are proudly a neurodivergent family, asking not for pity, but for understanding, inclusion, and the joy of watching our little boy thrive.
