Autism Is Not the Problem. The Need to 'Fix' It Is.

I vaccinated both my kids—and only one of them is autistic.

With my first pregnancy, I avoided deli meat, alcohol, meds. I did Hypnobabies and planned the most natural birth possible.
He’s autistic.

I took my prenatals.
I didn’t live in a house with lead or mold.
I did everything “right.”

With my second? I was on antidepressants the entire pregnancy, ate sandwiches, carried significantly more stress, and my water broke unexpectedly at 34 weeks with no clear reason why.
She’s not autistic.

Autism is not a disease.
It’s a neurotype.
A naturally occurring, valid, and diverse way of experiencing the world.

Can you imagine reading—over and over and over again—that your child is a problem in this world?
That their existence is an epidemic? Something to be eradicated? That they’ll never amount to anything… and that who they are right now isn’t even valued?

I couldn’t have imagined it either—Not until I became the mother of an autistic child.

Let me tell you what’s actually true:

• Vaccines don’t cause autism.

• Autism isn’t something to cure or prevent.

• We’re seeing more diagnoses because we’re recognizing that autism is more than just Sheldon Cooper or profound non-speaking autism.

• Neurodivergence runs in my family (including me). This was always genetic.

• Autism isn’t the problem—society is.

You know what’s wild? Some of Jake’s recommended goals in therapy include things like:
“Respond to peer for 10 seconds.”
“Share marker unprompted with a peer.”

Why? Because somewhere along the way, someone decided that fitting in socially = success.

We’re suppose to cheer, hoot and holler when he says hi.

Now we don’t support goals like that.
We encourage natural and meaningful relationships—on his terms.

And yes, sorry to disappoint you RFK—he does have those.

Yes, connection matters.
But masking who you are just to make others comfortable?
That’s a constructed idea someone decided was important.

I wish I understood that when I was younger—
That it was okay to be my neurodivergent self.

So yeah, there are truths to what people say.
Being an autism family is hard.

But it’s not autism that makes it hard.
It’s the lack of resources.
The lack of support.
The lack of empathy.
The lack of flexible systems for families like mine.

And this fear-based narrative around autism?
It keeps people from asking questions.
From getting curious.
From growing.

Maybe instead of pushing misinformation, we could:

• Offer actual support so parents can access interventions

• Provide therapy for families and couples so they don’t fall apart

• Stop painting autism as a tragedy and start listening to those of us actually living it

You’re lucky if you don’t have to deal with all of this.
But let me be clear—it’s not autism you’re lucky to avoid.
It’s the world telling you your child is broken.

If you’re not autistic or raising an autistic child, your place here is simple: Listen. Ask questions. Learn.

Voicing your opinion that vaccines need to go or that parents need to stop feeding their kids gluten is ignorant.

Pain often pushes change. And I hope all this noise lights a fire under the neurodiversity-affirming community—because we’ve got work to do.