I spent most of my years in high school fretting about my public image. I always had a constant worry of whether I fit in and how people perceived me. I believed I needed to be a certain way to be a certain way to be apart of the community. I was young and impressionable, and there wasn’t a person who could convince me to be myself.

The thought of people knowing who I truly was was a terrifying thought to me, so I hid. I hid for nearly four years from the people closest to me for my own personal gain. If no one knew, I didn’t have to burden anyone with the knowledge that weighed down on myself.

One summer before my sophmore year, I was walking to a baseball game with a childhood friend. Something she said stuck with me that day, and I’ll never be able to shake it. “He [our classmate] is gay! I don’t have a problem with him being gay, but it’s a little weird.”

That may not be the exact thing I was told by her, but it sure did stick around for a while. What was weird about being gay? Because of that one conversation, I refused to tell anyone about myself for another few months. I didn’t want people to think I was weird.

I became more ashamed of myself than I ever was. I was embarrassed by my interest in women, and I was unsure how to cope with that. I felt disgusting and unwanted. All because of one persons comment.

So, until halfway into sophmore, I kept the fact I was lesbian inside. I was in a deep depression at that point, and hiding that was only weighing on me more. I felt a little obligated to tell everyone about my sexuality. Little did I know, coming out was one of the most freeing things I’ve ever done.

I became seen, noticed, appreciated. For once in my life I felt like I was known. I started to reach from my comfort zone to try knew things and meet new people. It’s funny to think that all I needed to do to become more confident was to tell everyone what was arguably my biggest secret.

So, future children, I’m sharing this self discovery of mine not to scare you, no. I’m not trying to receive pity from you. This is a life lesson. You are an incredible person. Your self identity does not define your self worth or your worth in life. Your self identity is the biggest part about you. I, as your mother, will always be your biggest supporter and friend. My future wife, whoever may be, will be just as big of a supporter as I am.

I hope that this personal detail of mine will help you in your own future discovery, Your journey is unique to yourself, though there are others that may share the same theme. All that you may need is a small push.

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK

Dear Future Child That I May Or May Not Have,

I want to be honest with you and tell you that I’m autistic. I can’t fully explain it all at once, so I’ll tell you what it is as simple as I can. It means that I extremely admire certain things and topics that most people wouldn’t. It means that my surroundings can be pure hell from the sounds that I hear to the things that I feel. It means that it might take longer for me to understand something depending on the subject. It means that I can’t always find the words that I’m looking for. It means that I’ll shut down completely if I’m pushed too far. It sounds like a terrible thing to experience, but it’s different for everyone on the autism spectrum. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t have family and friends who take the time to understand me and give me what I need.

If you’re a biological child that I will give birth to, then you’re most likely going to be autistic like me, especially if your father is my current autistic boyfriend. You are going to be confused by anything and everything as you grow up. Nothing will make sense, you will feel anxious for no reason, and your peers will tease you for being different. I’m currently fighting for a better world so that you won’t have to grow up in the same hateful world that I grew up in. I will always be there for you no matter what. You will have to be patient with me because I’d be a disabled parent trying to raise a disabled child, but I will be the mother you need. Also, you should know right away that “disabled” isn’t a dirty word. It’s totally understandable if you occasionally get frustrated and wish things were easier, but I want you to wear your autism on your sleeve as you grow up. I grew up hiding mine, and I wasn’t truly happy with myself until I was an adult. I want you to be happy and true to yourself from the moment you’re born.

If you’re a child that I’m destined to adopt, then chances are that you won’t be autistic. If you end up being neurotypical (non-autistic), then I must ask you to be patient with me. Society might view you as an “easier child to raise” because you’re nowhere on the autism spectrum, but motherhood is going to be a challenge for me no matter what kind of child I get. We’re going to have different routines to follow, and I’m going to be more stressed out than you. Even if I’m burnt out and feeling the need to crash on the couch, I will be there for you. Please understand that I’m not saying that you in particular are what is wearing me out; just about everything wears me out. I’m just going to need a few breaks every now and then as you get older so I can have the energy to do everything that you want to do.

Regardless of whether you’re biological or adopted, or even autistic or neurotypical, there are people out there who will declare that I shouldn’t be your mother. It’s sadly common for disabled mothers to have their children taken away because society doesn’t think they’re fit for the job. I may be disabled, but I’ve worked in childcare for years and I’m more than qualified to care for a child of my own. Don’t listen to them. This ableist society we live in will try to find a reason to tear us apart, so we must work together to prove them wrong. I won’t let them force you into a home that you don’t belong in. We are meant to be together.

If I do end up being your mother, then I can’t wait to meet you.

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK

Love, Mommy