My son Nicholas will always have Autism. It won’t end when he turns 18 years old. It does not stop for anything. Autism is hard. It’s complex and unpredictable.

It’s hard for our family to go anywhere. We almost always need help. My husband Steve and I take shifts when it comes to mealtime, because the other has to sit with Nicholas because of his anxiety. Most of the time we have to leave abruptly when he starts melting down. This is Nicholas’s autism.

It means hitting his head when he gets overwhelmed. It’s having an aversion to food that requires him to eat by feeding tube. This is his autism.

It means moving away from his brother because he doesn’t like to be touched. It’s getting upset with his sister when she wants to play with him. This is his autism.

It means screaming in excitement because he doesn’t know how to talk. It’s him yelling in frustration because we don’t know what he’s trying to communicate to us. This is his autism.

It means randomly waking up multiple times in the night. It’s getting up at 5a.m. ready to start the day. This is his autism.

It means watching the same Minecraft video game over and over. It’s playing with Legos and only caring about the sets of two. This is his autism.

It means screaming in pain from constipation. It’s vomiting his formula every single day. This is his autism.

It means being entertained by a ceiling fan, a door, and the blinds. It’s laughing at the telephone poles when driving in the car. This is his autism.

It means being developmentally delayed in everything. It’s needing help with daily life skills. This is his autism.

It means never-ending therapy. It’s countless doctor appointments and procedures. This is his autism.

It means hours on the phone with insurance companies. It’s piles of paperwork and forms trying to get the right services. This is his autism.

It means advocating for him to get the right therapies at school. It’s standing up for him when people talk down on him. This is his autism.

It means not being able to sit in grass because it possibly feels like sandpaper against his skin. It’s not being able to take a bath because of his sensitivity to water. This is his autism.

Steve and I have accepted that this is who Nicholas is. It’s no surprise to us anymore when we have to leave an event because he’s melting down. It’s nothing new when we’re not able to eat because he needs comfort.

We understand this is how our life is going to be for a very long time. It’s even possible Nicholas will live with us into adulthood. We’ve accepted Nicholas and his autism. And we love him unconditionally.