Definitions Show Who We Are

This is a powerful piece that says so much of how I have been thinking and feeling, ever since I first thought my son, even before 18 months, might be autistic. It went through my head and heart when I was told by the preschool (after telling them why I was removing his name from their incoming students list after his diagnosis) that I should take time to grieve for the death of my dreams.

What makes us human? How do you define love? Why do we assume that happiness must be tied to "normal"?

I love my son and prefer to know the facts of his autism. Fears and prejudice do us all a big disservice if we give in to them. This cannot be stressed enough. I love my guy; that means ALL of him. It's hard and heartbreaking at times, but I love him. End of story.