The Superhero Heart: Quiet Strength in Autism Siblings

Autism did not ruin our family or crush Ali. Instead, it made her stronger.

The photo attached is from “Ali’s day,” a chance for her class to recognize her summer birthday before the end of school. I had had a softball cookie cake made, and I had brought it, along with little brother, to her class.

I can tell by Mark’s hand position that he was trying to steal a piece of the giant cookie. 

I can tell by my expression that I was trying to feign a smile in front of the class while conveying to Mark in ventriloquist fashion to get his hand off that cookie immediately. 

I can tell by Ali’s smile that she knew this might be as good as it would get — her mom had made it there, and her mom had brought something special. She was appreciating the effort and seizing the moment. 

Mark would go on to steal lots of cookies and lots of moments. Sometimes his misbehavior would be within his control and other times he wouldn’t be able to help his impulsivity or quirkiness. 

Ali would learn to be flexible and strong in spite of embarrassment or sadness, as she did when Mark climbed high in a tree at a softball tournament and started screaming while her team was batting, or when he needed me on the Sunday of a Mother’s Day softball tournament, and Ali posed for the Mother’s Day picture with all her teammates and all of the team moms, except hers. 

We would do mom-daughter dates and dad-daughter activities and whole family events. We would do our best as a family. 

Ali would learn gratitude and perspective. She would become a kickass disability rights advocate with degrees from the University of Texas and Harvard Law. 

She would grow up early and become best friends with her brother. 

But her childhood couldn’t have been easy.