Hearts on the Spectrum: Walking Our Autism Journey
A Mother’s Story of Hope and Breakthroughs
Our Journey Begins
Jacob was turning 4, COVID was finally coming to an end, and he had still been nonverbal. That time gave me space to truly pay attention and get to know my son in a way I hadn’t before. It also brought questions I couldn’t ignore.
I remember asking my mom before her passing, “Do you think he’s autistic?” I honestly don’t know why I asked that question — I didn’t even truly know what autism was at the time or what it meant. Her calm reassurance was, “No, no … all kids learn in their own time. He will come around. He will speak when he’s ready.”
But during the shutdown, when the world slowed down, I began to see more clearly that Jacob was unlike his two older brothers. He showed the world in a different way. While they were running around kicking a soccer ball, swinging on the monkey bars at the park, and chatting all day, Jacob was quiet and distant. His silence spoke volumes — and it made me lean in closer to notice the little things.
I saw his fascination with water — the way he could watch ripples dance endlessly. I noticed how he lined up items with careful precision, how he loved watching the wheels on his toy cars spin round and round, over and over again. He would walk around on his tiptoes and gently squeal and flap his hands when colors, shapes, and numbers came on the television screen. He would want to watch the same show over and over again.
When it was time to return to work and he started preschool, his different demeanor became even more apparent. He avoided eye contact, always sat alone away from the other children, and refused to eat anything outside of milk and yogurt. Eventually, I got the phone call — the one that hurts a parent to the core:
“Your son is no longer welcome here. He’s just not like the other kids. He can’t communicate. We don’t know what he wants, and we can’t worry about him throwing his head back into the floor and possibly hurting himself.”
I was filled with raw emotion and sadness, needing answers, trying to figure out where to go from there.
Jacob and I have always been very close, tied by that deep, unspoken bond only a mother and child share. But those days were hard. Without words or a way to communicate, his frustration often poured out in screams. They weren’t screams of rage — they were cries of defeat. And in those moments, I felt that same defeat with him.
I knew he was different. I knew I had to search for answers. By paying closer attention, diligently taking notes, and asking his pediatrician lots and lots of questions, I began to piece things together — that question I once asked my mother: “Do you think he’s autistic?”
After a long eight months of waiting, Jacob finally saw a neurologist and received his Autism and Speech Disability diagnosis. I felt something unexpected: relief. At last, I had a starting point. At last, I knew how to help him.
What I Thought Motherhood Would Look Like
There was a time when I quietly grieved the version of motherhood I thought I was going to have. It wasn’t because I didn’t love Jacob exactly as he was — I did, with every ounce of my being. But I was silently grieving and longing for the milestones that didn’t come, the words I didn’t hear, the playdates that we couldn’t have, and the looks I sometimes got from other parents who didn’t understand.
It felt lonely at first. I questioned myself constantly. What was I doing wrong? Why was I failing him? I wasn’t parenting him any differently from my other 2 boys, I showed him the same love and included him the same way as my other children.
But slowly, that grief turned into something else: gratitude. Not the sugar-coated kind, but the deep, powerful kind that grows when you stop comparing and start embracing what’s real. I began to see beauty in the quiet moments. I stopped waiting for “normal” and started celebrating progress — in whatever form it took.
Letting go of expectations was one of the most freeing things I’ve ever done. It allowed me to love and encounter Jacob not for what I thought he was missing out on or who he might become, but for exactly who he beautifully is.
Finding Our Voice
One of the first supports that made a profound difference was ABA therapy. I know ABA has a complicated history, but today it looks very different than it once did — and for us, it was a blessing. I sat in on sessions, asked questions, took notes, and even joined parent training. I discovered PECS (Picture Exchange Communication System) and how to use them in daily life.
When I first discovered PECS, I was excited but quickly overwhelmed. Many of the pre-made cards I found online felt too generic or didn’t apply to our everyday life. Jacob did not find them interesting or engaging and didn’t really want to have anything to do with them. I thought to myself, “I can create some really unique ones just for him.” So I decided to create our own — a fully personalized visual world for Jacob to engage with, his own unique hub of PECS to work with just for him.
Creating visual supports that truly connected with Jacob made all the difference. I wanted each card to reflect his world — colorful, expressive, and meaningful.
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I started small, printing images from the internet and using photos of real items around our home. Then I organized them into categories like:
Food & Drinks: yogurt, milk, juice, bananas, chicken nuggets
Activities: bath time, coloring, tv show, trampoline
Emotions: happy, sad, frustrated, sleepy
Requests: help, more, all done, play
People: mom, dad, brothers, auntie, cousins
Having pictures of real things that Jacob recognized helped him engage more naturally. I laminated them, cut them into individual cards, attached Velcro, and built a binder that became his go-to communication tool.
For any parent starting out with PECS, my advice is: start with what your child knows and loves. You don’t have to be a graphic designer — just a curious and loving observer of your child’s world.
I’ll never forget the first time Jacob picked up a PECS card on his own and handed it to me, telling me what he needed. I felt relief and wept tears of joy. It was our breakthrough — finally, a bridge of communication between us.
From there, we added Speech Therapy, Food Therapy, and Occupational Therapy (OT) — each one opening new doors for Jacob to grow, explore, and connect.
Finding Our Rhythm: The Power of Routine
In the beginning, our days felt unpredictable. I didn’t realize just how overwhelming that could be for Jacob — how not knowing what came next would leave him anxious, overstimulated, or completely withdrawn. But as I began to learn more about autism, one thing kept coming up over and over again:
Autistic individuals thrive with routine.
Jacob was no exception. He found comfort in repetition — watching the same show, lining up the same toys, repeating the same motion. At first, I didn’t understand it. But over time, I realized this wasn’t just a quirk — it was a need. A way for him to bring order to a world that often felt chaotic.
So I began building structure into his day — not rigid or overwhelming, but intentional. I learned to honor the power of predictability. I started creating visual routine boards, complete with custom picture cards that walked him through the day in a way he could see and understand. Morning routines, therapy sessions, playtime, meals, and bedtime — all laid out with gentle guidance and clear expectations.
The moment I began doing this — showing Jacob visually what was happening next — everything began to shift.
He felt safer. He felt seen. His meltdowns began to lessen. His ability to engage increased. There was a sense of peace and balance returning to our home — not because we "fixed" him, but because we finally began speaking his language.
Understanding that Jacob needed routine wasn’t about controlling him — it was about empowering him. It was my way of saying, “I see you. I get it now. And I’m here to help you feel safe in your world.”
Learning His Sensory World
I wanted to understand as much as possible about where my son was coming from. The more I learned, the more I realized his sensory processing was very different from mine.
No wonder why he would cover his ears and scream at the sound of the blender or the vacuum cleaner — the sound wasn’t just annoying; it was literally painful for him. No wonder eating was such a struggle — Jacob wasn’t being “picky.” He was deeply sensitive to the smell, texture, and feel of food. What looked like refusal was actually discomfort. Once I understood that, I could finally meet him where he was.
Alongside therapies, I poured myself into books about autism — voices from the autism community, guides for parents, and stories that offered windows into a world I was still learning to navigate. These books gave me compassion, perspective, and tools to better support Jacob.
Recommendations
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, I earn a commission from qualifying purchases at no additional cost to you. I only recommend tools and resources that I have personally used with Jacob or believe can help other families on their journey.
Thank you for supporting Hearts on the Spectrum.
The Reason I Jump by Naoki Higashida
Written by a 13-year-old nonverbal boy with Autism, this book offers an extraordinary look into his inner world. This amazing individuals perception gave me compassion and understanding of how someone else can experience the same world we live in, in such a different way.
Uniquely Human by Dr. Barry Prizant
This book completely shifted the way I thought about Autism — not as a list of deficits, but as a different way of being human. It encouraged me to focus on Jacob’s strengths, not just his struggles.
The Out-of-Sync Child by Carol Stock Kranowitz
This was eye-opening for me in understanding sensory processing challenges. It helped me recognize why everyday sounds, textures, and activities felt so overwhelming for Jacob.
Recognizing Jacob’s Sensory World
Recognizing Jacob’s sensory world didn’t just change how I parented him — it strengthened our bond. Instead of frustration, I began to see opportunities: ways to adapt, support, and help him feel understood and safe. That shift changed everything.
Finding Community & Support
One of the hardest parts of our early journey was feeling like we were walking it alone. But slowly, I found other parents, pages, and voices that gave me courage and connection.
Some of my favorite places for support and inspiration include:
Instagram accounts for autism acceptance
Local Facebook groups for special needs parents
Parent training programs through our ABA provider
Our church community, who showed up in quiet, compassionate ways
Finding a community reminded me: we don’t have to do this alone. There is wisdom in shared experience, and healing in being understood.
If you're reading this and feeling isolated, please know — there is a village out there for you. And you're already part of mine.
A Breakthrough Moment
And then — the moment I will treasure forever: the first time Jacob said, “Momma … love you.”
I froze, stunned. My heart skipped. Did he really just say that?
The words were simple, soft, and imperfect — but to me, they were a symphony. A sentence that had once felt so far out of reach had just been gifted to me by the very child I had once feared might never speak at all.
I wept. Not from sadness, but from something deeper — the kind of joy that wells up from the soul after a long stretch of uncertainty and silent prayers. That one phrase carried years of unspoken connection, every therapy session, every meltdown, every victory, every tear.
In that moment, I didn’t care that it had taken longer. I didn’t care that the road had been different. All I knew was that my son had found his way to me — through his own path, in his own time — and those three little words stitched something whole inside of me.
That was the moment I stopped looking backward at all the missed milestones or forward in fear of what may come. I was here. He was here. And together, we were growing, healing, and learning how to love one another more clearly every day.
Jacob speaking those 3 simple words wasn’t just his first sentence —
It was our bridge — a connection that had waited patiently to be built.
For Parents Walking This Journey
If you’re reading this and you’ve felt overwhelmed, isolated, or unsure of what to do next — please know this:
You are not walking this journey alone.
There is support. There are tools. There are communities filled with parents like us — navigating uncharted waters, celebrating the smallest wins, and searching for what will help their child feel safe, heard, and understood.
Every child is different. Every need is unique. But that doesn’t mean you’re left to figure it all out on your own. There are custom strategies, visual aids, sensory tools, and communication supports that can be tailored to fit your child — not just some generic checklist.
Even with all their beautiful, unique qualities, you can find what works for your loved one. And when you do, it can be life-changing — for both of you.
Through Jacob, I’ve learned that “different abilities” are not limits — they are gifts. Each one of us is wonderfully made, with purpose and meaning.
If you need help getting started, I would love to hear from you and listen to your story. I create custom support packages designed to meet your child exactly where they are — and help them thrive. Whether it’s personalized PECS boards, visual routines, or tools to encourage growth and connection, I’d be honored to help you create a plan that feels just right for your family.
You don’t have to do this alone.
We’re in this together — hand in hand, heart to heart.
Psalm 139:13–14 reminds us:
“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”
Note From The Heart
I’m not a medical professional or therapist — I am a mom walking this journey alongside my amazing child, who is diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder and a Speech Disability. Everything I share comes from our personal experiences, deep love, and what I’ve learned along the way.
Please always consult with qualified professionals for guidance tailored to your child and family’s unique needs.
