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I thought about how far I’d come in the last few years, for you see, my bracelet is an autism awareness bracelet. And, I have alternately hated and marveled at it—just as I have at the disorder it represents. I didn’t plan to buy the bracelet. And, of course, even though I feared it during my pregnancy, I didn’t plan on having a son with autism either. But since my defense mechanism is to research, research, research, I had to learn as much as I could about autism spectrum disorders through any and all available resources.

So, I ended up at a national autism conference. And, while there, I decided to listen to the inner tapping—a definite light tapping, not an insistent knock—that was telling me I needed something to identify myself—to mark me in solidarity with all those other moms whose fears had come true; with the moms who know what it’s like to turn down a birthday party invitation because they just don’t have the energy to deal with the unexpected issues that will inevitably arise from their child’s behavior; with the moms who want so much to choose between soccer and Little League for their kids, but instead spend their time driving between this therapy appointment and that one because something has to make a difference; and even with the other moms who didn’t want to buy any kind of darned autism awareness bracelet either!

So, I did it! I bought it, but only after getting the seller to create a regular wrist bracelet out of an ankle bracelet.

After all, the one she had designed for the wrist had larger stones. If I wore that one, wouldn’t it draw too much attention to the bracelet? I wanted to be in solidarity with the moms who knew, but I didn’t really want anyone on the “outside” to ask me any questions about it. Maybe if I got the small bracelet, no one would notice.

As if I could keep my membership in the parental “A-Club” a secret. No, my son always outs me—whether I want to be outed or not. And it started early—like when as a two-year-old he would run up to the salespeople in Costco and read their name tags. Or, when he was three, and thought he was doing the right thing by opening each conversation with “What kind of operating system do you have?” It’s in the toe walking and the special diet. It’s in the aide he has to guide him when other children are simply playing with each other. It’s even in the minutia of a voice that’s just a little too loud, and in a gesture that’s just a little too awkward.

But, then, there are those other days-those days when I think my bracelet is the most beautiful piece of jewelry I own. Those are the days I’m reminded that my son is the most beautiful and precious gift I could ever have been given. And, those are the days, I find myself being caught up in the joy of a child—my child—the one who will never be perfect; but the one who is perfectly mine.

So, I’m thankful I purchased that little piece of wire with the tiny multi-colored beads, because it reminds me to look at life with a different perspective—and to enjoy the view—even if I didn’t ask to see things so differently. After all, we all need to be reminded to appreciate the people in our lives who are as different as the stones on my bracelet.

Linda Brain Beck, proud mom and wife, currently teaches public speaking and managerial communications classes at several different Pennsylvania colleges. She has a bachelor’s degree in Speech Communications from Millersville University, and a master’s degree in Psychoeducational Processes from Temple University. Linda’s journey into the world of Autism Spectrum Disorders began in 2002 after her son was diagnosed with high-functioning autism.