A Mother’s Journey into Applied Behavior Analysis

When I look back to the beginning of my autism and Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) journey with my son, Henry, what I remember most is sitting in my car in a parking lot, going down a standardized developmental checklist my pediatrician had handed me, and realizing Henry couldn’t do almost anything on it. I’d already suspected he was different. I’d been watching other children at the park, asking questions, and second-guessing myself. But that checklist was the moment I stopped wondering if I was imaging things.

Henry was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) at two and a half, after the driving force of my mother’s intuition, looking around at other children, asking questions, and a lot of introspection led me to seek out help that ultimately resulted in a diagnosis. But it was when I was sitting in my car, looking at that list, that I finally began to see that my instincts were correct and that I was not imagining Henry’s struggles and apparent delays.

When Henry’s diagnosis of ASD became official, I had mixed emotions. I felt relief and fear almost at the same time, which is a strange yet all too common combination that parents and caregivers have to sit with when given their child’s diagnosis. The relief came first, because I finally had an answer to what I was seeing at home: the communication delays, the aggression towards his father and me, and the sense that nothing we tried was working. Then the fear moved in, mainly fear of the unknown. My picture of autism at that point wasn’t a good one, and it definitely wasn’t accurate, as I was about to learn on my journey into ABA with Henry.

If I could go back to that day of the official diagnosis, sitting in my car, I would have wanted to know I wasn’t going to be doing this alone, and would have loved someone with autism experience to tell me it was going to be okay, and that there were real resources waiting for us. I didn’t have anyone in my life who’d been through it. So I leaned on the support I did have, which was a group of other moms with young children, and it helped in some ways but not others. They were there for me, but their kids were neurotypical, hitting milestones on schedule, not exhibiting any delays. And that creates a different kind of loneliness when you’re surrounded by support that doesn’t quite fit your situation.

It’s why I’ve also learned from my journey that seeking support for yourself is as important as showing up for your child with special needs. Because it’s challenging to show up for your child if you’ve not found a support system for you. This can look like reaching out to local support groups or even seeking out one-on-one therapy for yourself. I can’t say enough how important it is to not only show up as a parent, but also to show up as an individual. Purposefully doing this has helped me support my son in the best ways I can.

Once my family and I received support, I was so inspired by the attention and care Henry received from our ABA service provider that I decided to pursue a career in the field, get my Master of Science in ABA, and become a Board Certified Behavior Analyst. It taught me a lot about how to be a better special needs parent as well as be a more understanding and empathetic BCBA and clinician. 

That doesn’t mean I always have the answers. One of the hardest questions parents and caregivers often ask me is how to talk to their child about their autism diagnosis, because they know I live on both sides of the conversation. I don’t think there’s one right way to do it. In our home, we talk about it openly. Autism is a part of our lives and a part of who we are as a family. We didn’t approach it as a “sit down topic” with Henry. It’s just a natural part of our family conversation. Henry knows that I work with individuals on the autism spectrum and he has always been aware of his diagnosis.

But we don’t let autism define who he is. He is simply, himself. He is wonderful, handsome, beautiful Henry. He understands that autism is a spectrum and that it looks different person to person, and that his version is uniquely his. As a result, we make a point of learning and staying curious about his current or recurring special interests. Because that curiosity has taught me more about how his mind works than any training I’ve had.

I’m also asked what keeps me going, working, living and breathing autism. And what I can tell you more than a decade into my ABA journey is this: it isn’t the paperwork or milestones. It’s the parents and caregivers I’m constantly inspired by who will fight and advocate for their children, and the ABA professionals who show up to work every day motivated to make a difference and to truly help others. 

I’ve experienced the field change over the years, and one of the biggest shifts has been the willingness of ABA professionals to listen, embrace feedback, and keep growing, instead of assuming we already know best. 

That shift gives me hope, and it’s a big part of why I still love this work, on the hard days as well as the good ones.