“We Need a Dog!”

Woodstock, Georgia

I’M A TALKER—I HAVE A HABIT OF talking to every person I see—but that afternoon in March 2015, I sat beside my husband, Andy, on the 45-minute drive home from the Marcus Autism Center in Atlanta without saying a word. It was the most deafening silence of our 11-year marriage. We were both so overwhelmed, we didn’t know what to say.

I glanced back at our two-and-a-half-year-old son, Wesley, asleep in his car seat. We’d had him checked out because of his continuing obsession with letters, numbers and counting things, and his seeming indifference to communicating with people, even though he had an enormous vocabulary. Wesley had spent the day being assessed by a team of specialists. They’d diagnosed him with autism spectrum disorder.

A stress migraine pounded my temples. Could I be mom? The one who could educate myself, advocate for our son, intervene when necessary. I kept thinking.