Looking back, we can’t believe we missed the signs.

My husband, CJ, and I recently celebrated 10 years since we first met. We actually have three anniversaries but this one is the most important: it marks the date that life as I knew it tipped upside-down.

My husband is the yang to my ying. The light to my dark. The pull to my push. The stop to my go. He’s the most incredible father who’s ever-present for his tribe of girls. He has this cheeky grin and a great sense of humor. 

He’s also fantastic at pulling me up when I’ve taken something too far and he’ll be the first person to say, “Why must you always insist on learning things the hard way?” (Because that’s me, baby  a bull in your china shop.)

My husband is 33. And he’s also autistic.

We were together seven years before we realized he had autism. It wasn’t until after my eldest daughter was diagnosed after a few years of back-and-forth deliberation that we finally got her assessed and diagnosed. And then it occurred to us that CJ was, too.

RELATED: I Chose NOT To Vaccinate My Son And That’s My Parental RIGHT

I knew my eldest daughter, Sno, wasn’t “neurotypical” from about age four. Back then I didn’t drive, so we walked everywhere. If I dared walk a different route to kindergarten, she fell apart.



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