When my son Aditya was first diagnosed with autism at the age of three, I remember sitting in the doctor’s office, staring at a word I barely understood. Autism. The word hung in the air, heavy with questions and fears. Why us? What does this mean for Aditya’s future? How do we move forward? As an architect, I’d always been able to design and plan things down to the smallest detail. But in that moment, I felt utterly lost.
The early days were the hardest. The uncertainty was overwhelming, and I found myself trapped in a cycle of comparisons. I would watch other children of Aditya’s age—chattering, making friends, hitting milestones with ease—and wonder why our journey looked so different. There were sleepless nights and days filled with therapy appointments, evaluations, and endless Google searches. It felt like we were running a race where the finish line kept moving.
But amidst the chaos, Aditya became my anchor. Even as he struggled to communicate in the ways we expected, he found his own language. His fascination with collections began when he was about four years old. It started small—a few smooth pebbles he picked up on a family trip to the beach. Over time, his collections grew to include stamps, coins, and, most recently, action figures. Each item he gathered wasn’t just an object but a story, a piece of a world only he could fully see.
I’ll never forget the day I truly began to shift my perspective. Aditya had spent weeks meticulously organizing his stamp collection, arranging them by color, country, and size. One evening, he eagerly pulled me to his room to show me his work. As I looked at the vibrant rows of stamps, I saw something I hadn’t allowed myself to see before—Aditya’s joy, his passion, his brilliance. He wasn’t “behind” or “different”; he was Aditya, with his own unique way of connecting with the world.
That moment was a turning point for me as a parent. Instead of focusing on what Aditya couldn’t do, I began celebrating everything he could. Each new word he learned, each time he made eye contact, each smile he gave me—these were our milestones. They might not have looked like the ones in parenting books, but they were ours, and they mattered.
Over the years, I’ve learned to embrace the unpredictability of our journey. My work as an architect has taken on new meaning as I volunteer with a local NGO, designing sensory-friendly spaces for schools. Aditya has been my greatest teacher in this. He’s shown me how the right environment can make a world of difference. The spaces I design now aren’t just functional; they’re places where kids like Aditya can feel safe and thrive.
Aditya is twelve now, and his love for collecting continues to grow. His room is a treasure trove of tiny worlds—each stamp, coin, or action figure a testament to his focus and creativity. Watching him pursue his passions with such determination has taught me that success isn’t about ticking off boxes or meeting societal expectations. Success is about finding joy in the journey, however unconventional it may be.
To any parent reading this, I want you to know: it’s okay to feel lost at times. It’s okay to grieve the picture-perfect version of parenthood you once imagined. But don’t let those feelings stop you from seeing the beauty in your child’s unique journey. Celebrate the small victories. Each step forward—no matter how tiny—is progress, and it’s worth celebrating.
Aditya has taught me to let go of comparisons and embrace our story as it is. And in doing so, he’s helped me find strength and acceptance I didn’t know I had. Life with Aditya isn’t the life I once envisioned, but it’s richer, fuller, and more meaningful than I could have ever dreamed.
