Nobody Talks About How Scared I Am to Send My Nonverbal Autistic Son to School

If we were sitting together at my kitchen table right now with a cup of coffee, there's something I would want to tell you.

I'm scared.

Not a little nervous.

Not just wondering how things will go.

I'm truly, deeply scared.

My son starts public school soon, and although I've tried to stay positive, this fear has been living in my heart for over a year. Every month that passed brought us one step closer to September, and every month my mind found another reason to worry.

People see me smiling.

They see me talking about getting him ready for school.

They don't see the nights when my stomach is in knots because I'm thinking about everything that could happen.

Some nights it feels like my stomach is doing somersaults. Other nights I lie awake replaying situations that haven't even happened yet.

People say, “Try not to worry.”

I wish it were that easy.

This Isn't About Distrusting Teachers

Before I go any further, I want to say something that is really important.

This isn't about believing teachers or educational assistants don't care.

I know there are incredible teachers, educational assistants, and support staff who dedicate their lives to helping children, and I am thankful for every one of them.

This is about being the mom of a little boy who doesn't use spoken words to tell me what he needs.

He can't simply say, “I'm hungry.”

He can't always say, “I'm thirsty.”

He can't always tell someone his tummy hurts.

He can't explain that the classroom feels too loud.

He can't always say, “I'm scared.”

He communicates in his own beautiful way.

The people who love him have learned his language over years.

Now I have to trust that other people will learn it too.

And if I'm being completely honest...

That is the part that terrifies me.

What If They Don't Understand His Language?

My son has the sweetest hugs.

Honestly, they are the best hugs in the world.

When he's happy, he hugs.

When he's looking for comfort, he hugs.

When he needs reassurance, he hugs.

Sometimes a hug is his way of saying everything he cannot put into words.

What if one day he reaches out for a hug because he's overwhelmed or scared?

What if someone gently moves him away because they don't understand that's how he asks for comfort?

That thought breaks my heart.

Because I know him.

I know the look on his face when he's overwhelmed.

I know the little sounds he makes.

I know the way he reaches for my hand.

I know when he needs a quiet moment.

I know when he just wants his mommy.

I'm not expecting anyone to know him the way I do on the very first day.

I just hope they'll want to learn.

The Questions That Never Leave My Mind

I'll be honest with you.

My brain has probably packed his backpack a thousand times already, and it's only July.

If overthinking were an Olympic sport, I think I'd have a pretty good chance of bringing home the gold medal.

I laugh when I say that.

But underneath that little joke is a mom whose heart is carrying a lot.

I wonder...

Will someone notice if he's hungry?

Will someone remember to encourage him to drink some water?

Will they know when all the noise becomes too much for him?

Will they notice if another child isn't kind?

Will someone comfort him if he's frightened?

Will they see the little signs that tell me everything without him saying a single word?

These are the thoughts that follow me everywhere.

The First Day

People have asked me if I'll cry on his first day of school.

The answer is simple.

Yes.

I know I will.

Not because I'm not proud of him.

Not because I don't want him to grow.

I'll cry because I'll be leaving a piece of my heart with people who are still getting to know him.

I'll spend the day wondering...

Did he eat enough?

Did someone notice when he was thirsty?

Did someone understand when he needed a sensory break?

Did someone comfort him if he became overwhelmed?

Did anyone realize that sometimes a hug is how he says, “I need you”?

Those questions will stay with me until I pick him up again.

My Prayer Every Night

Every night before I fall asleep, I pray.

Sometimes it's a long prayer.

Sometimes it's only a few sentences.

But it always comes back to the same thing.

“God...

Please protect my little boy.

Please let someone see him the way I do.

Please let someone notice when he needs help.

Please surround him with kindness.

Please let him feel safe.

Please remind him that even when Mommy isn't beside him, he is never alone.”

Those prayers don't make my fears disappear.

But they remind me that I'm not carrying them by myself.

And then I wake up the next morning, give my little boy the biggest hug I can, and remind myself to take it one day at a time.

If You're Reading This With Tears In Your Eyes

Maybe your child is starting school this year too.

Maybe your child communicates differently.

Maybe you've been carrying these same fears quietly because you thought nobody else would understand.

I want you to know something.

You are not alone.

You are not overreacting.

You are not “too emotional.”

You are simply a parent who loves your child with every piece of your heart.

And that kind of love comes with worries that many people never see.

Something That Helps Me

When my heart feels especially heavy, I write.

Writing gives me somewhere to place the fears that feel too big to carry by myself.

That's one of the reasons I wrote Grace for the Autism Journey. It became a place to pour out the prayers, hopes, worries, and little victories that come with raising an autistic child.

If you've been carrying some of those same emotions, I hope it reminds you that you are not walking this journey alone.

One Last Thing

If I could wrap my son in a bubble and protect him forever, a part of me probably would.

But I also know that's not how children grow.

So instead, I'll do what I've always done.

I'll love him.

I'll advocate for him.

I'll prepare him the best I can.

I'll pray for him every single day.

And when he walks through those school doors for the first time, a piece of my heart will walk in with him.

Because that's what happens when you love someone this much.

If you're reading this while wiping away tears, please know this.

I'm right here beside you.

We may not know each other personally, but we're connected by something incredibly powerful.

The love we have for our children.

And somehow, I believe that love is stronger than fear.

One prayer.

One deep breath.

One school day at a time.

If this post spoke to your heart, I'd love to hear from you. Feel free to leave a comment below and share your own hopes, fears, or prayers as your child prepares for school. Sometimes knowing we're not walking this journey alone makes all the difference.

With love,

Marissa

Founder, Sensory Cozy Corner

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