This is a post I feel I have to write, but I am not totally comfortable with the content. It is too important not to write so I will do my best to walk a fine line between the words I feel need to be said and the words that cut too close to me.
I have three children, aged nine, five and three. The eldest has autism, specifically she was diagnosed with Autistic Spectrum Disorder, unofficially Aspergers. This is not a post about my daughter or her diagnosis. There are many great blogs out there about autism and what it means for children, adults and families. I can’t write those things.
Some days we are like any other family, no one on meeting my daughter would know she is autistic. Some days it is a very different story. I can’t write those things because some days there are no words. Maybe if I start to write about them I will never stop.
My daughter is her own person, she is not defined by her diagnosis. I have often read about parents who say their child is autistic, that is just who they are. Autism is not a disease, they do not suffer with autism, that is what makes them special. Some days I feel like that, some days I feel we do suffer with autism and all it brings to our family. I don’t feel I can write about my daughter, I don’t have her permission. If she reads this when she is older I hope she will understand why I did put pen to paper and shine a light on her life and our world. There are just two stories I will tell that relate to her directly because I feel they illustrate why museums everywhere need to do what the Science Museum has done.