Yesterday, My Daughter Was Diagnosed with Autism

Some moments mark a “before” and an “after.” Yesterday was one of those days for us. We jumped on a zoom call with a Psychologist, who, in some ways rocked our world. But, at the same time, it wasn't all that unexpected.

When we left, we had an answer: autism. Not a diagnosis we expected, but one that brought relief and resolve to move forward, armed with new understanding and a burning desire to help my daughter thrive.

We left holding a packet of resources and a thousand thoughts spinning in my mind. My wife felt like was supposed to start doing something—anything—but wasn’t quite sure what. The word autism itself had loomed large and fuzzy in my mind for a while, and I realized I had a lot to learn.

"Autism" and the Big Picture

Autism, they say, isn’t something to “fix.” It’s not an illness; it’s a neurodevelopmental difference, something inherent in how my daughter interacts with and experiences the world. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grappling with an ocean of emotions: a mix of fear, a dose of guilt, and a whole lot of love. What exactly did this mean for her? For us? For the life we’ve been building?

All those plans I’d quietly scribbled in my mind for her—the big ones and the silly ones—stopped feeling quite so solid. I questioned if I’d missed something obvious, if my wife or I should have noticed the signs sooner. Then I thought, maybe it’s not about looking back. Maybe it’s about equipping her, empowering her with everything we can and reshaping our thinking along the way.

Finding Our Why: Learning What We Need, Leaving the Rest

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years as an educator, it’s that data without purpose is a mess waiting to happen. Knowing my why—why I teach, why I lead, why I love—shapes everything I do. Yesterday, I learned a new why: because she’s worth every ounce of effort we can muster.

We’ll begin with her strengths, celebrating them as milestones just as important as any report card. We’ll look at the supports she needs and seek to understand her unique challenges. We’ll also have to tune out a lot of noise. People love to tell you all about what you should or shouldn’t do, often with zero firsthand experience.

So, I won’t be collecting every piece of advice. I’ll sift through the mountain of information for what applies to her, for what fits the essence of my daughter. And here’s a message to myself: I’m going to try to leave any expectation that doesn’t serve her behind.

What Does It Mean for Her, for Us?

First of all, she is learning how to say Autism. Last night, it was Ausetism. It morphed into "Awesometism." I loved that - and I quickly created a T-Shirt for her - so she can normalize. This morning, as she walked into school - she saw a parent waiting to drop her kid of, and said "I have Ausetism." The mom was so gracious. "Oh - Sweetie, So do I, and my daughter." You should have seen the look on her face. It was still a rough day. But, she knows she's not alone.

Autism is a spectrum, a vast and colorful one, spanning myriad behaviors, strengths, and areas for growth. I don’t fully know where she’ll fall or what she’ll need as she grows. But yesterday, I realized that raising her will mean a level of advocacy I hadn’t considered before. I’ll need to champion her in ways I’m not yet equipped for—but I’m about to be. And here’s something I didn’t expect: that realization, daunting as it is, fills me with purpose.

My daughter will grow up navigating a world not always built for her unique needs. There’ll be school forms and teacher meetings, opportunities to ask for understanding and support. And there will be people who only see the diagnosis and not the beautiful child behind it. That’s not something I can control. But what I can do is make sure she sees herself as strong, capable, and complete just as she is. I can model for her that we all have unique needs, even if hers come with a label.

School and the “Right Fit”

Looking at schools as an educator is one thing; looking at them as a parent is entirely different. I used to think about which teachers would guide her through geometry and Shakespeare. Now, I’m thinking about who will support her social development, understand her sensory needs, and give her a voice.

When I meet with school administrators, it’ll be with a newfound urgency. She’s going to need people who don’t just “accommodate” her, but who see her as whole and worthy of their time, their creativity, and their care. A learning environment that truly practices educational equity, not just as a buzzword but as a commitment, will be essential. I realize that, with a diagnosis like autism, I’ll need to do some legwork to find educators who will stand by her side, adapting and innovating as she grows.

And as her dad, I’m going to have to step into roles I hadn’t foreseen: advocate, interpreter, and tireless supporter. I’ll ask questions I never thought I’d need to ask, knowing they matter deeply to her future. And I’ll fight for her without hesitation.

To Every Parent: Embrace the Learning Curve

If you’re a fellow parent reading this, maybe you know what I’m feeling. You may be carrying the weight of so many questions, and maybe, like me, you’re adjusting to new answers you weren’t expecting. If you haven’t faced something like this yet, consider this a reminder: life hands us all a learning curve, and sometimes it’s sharper than we imagined. But here’s the thing—each step forward brings something invaluable. We get to know our kids more deeply, celebrate their growth in new ways, and yes, we get stronger.

Whether your child has a diagnosis or not, each of us parents are just a little unprepared, a little unsure. We all want our kids to feel valued, to know they belong, and to know they’re enough. Autism is one path of many, and just as there’s no one-size-fits-all education plan, there’s no universal parenting guide.

One Step, One Day at a Time

Yesterday, my daughter’s diagnosis gave me a sense of direction, even if it came with some trepidation. Today, my goal is simple: one step, one day at a time. We’ll find our rhythm and build a world where she can feel fully understood and empowered.

I don't have any of this figured out yet. Far from it. But, with hope, and learning, and patience, we can be what she needs us to be.

She’s just beginning her story, and so are we. So yes, I’ll read the research, learn from experts, and listen to every voice that matters. But more importantly, I’ll listen to her—to who she is, not who anyone else says she should be. And when I’m faced with doubt or uncertainty, I’ll remember this: no one else knows her as well as we do, and no one else will love her with the same fierce determination.

To my daughter: I’m here, learning, and ready to go forward with you into all the unknowns. We’ve got this—one day, one step, one discovery at a time.