There’s been a lot circulating in the news this past week about autism and its so-called “root” cause. The autism community has responded, loudly, clearly, and rightfully to the narrative being pushed by some of our nation’s top leaders.

Let me be clear: I’m not buying what they’re selling. But what hurt the most wasn’t just the misinformation; it was the subtle, yet unmistakable, way mothers were blamed.

I can’t speak for all mothers, but I can speak from my experience. Unless you’ve walked even a single step in my shoes, you don’t get to place blame on my shoulders; especially not after all the weight I’ve already carried.

For over a decade, I’ve questioned everything. Wondered if I missed a sign. Replayed moments during pregnancy, early childhood, therapies, interventions, and everything in between. I’ve blamed myself more times than I can count. It’s almost impossible not to when you’re the one who carried the child for nine months and then served as the primary caregiver through every milestone, regression, diagnosis, and decision.

It’s a heavy load. And it’s getting heavier as your child grows.
Funding is being slashed across the board. The Department of Education, the Office of Civil Rights, Medicaid, all critical lifelines for families like mine are being chipped away. And for families of children with significant needs, these aren’t just policy changes. They are lifelines being cut.

As my son grows older, I can’t help but wonder: What happens next? What happens when he ages out of the public school system? What supports will be available? Will there be programs in place? Will someone care for him the way I do?

The truth is, the people making these decisions…the ones peddling blame and slashing budgets…won’t be around when the consequences hit. They won’t be the ones sitting at IEP meetings, navigating adult services, or worrying about housing, safety, and dignity for their grown autistic children.

But do you know who will be?
Mothers. (and fathers…caregivers…)

We’ll still be here. Showing up, fighting, advocating, carrying what feels impossible to carry. We’ll be the ones making sure our kids don’t fall through the cracks left behind by careless policy.
So instead of casting blame, how about we start listening?

Instead of cutting funding, let’s invest in the future of all children.
They say every storm runs out of rain and I hold on to that hope.
But this? This is one mighty storm. And we’re weathering it the best we can.

Wherever you stand in this conversation, let’s agree on this: our children need less judgment and more support. They need to be met with compassion, understanding, and a real commitment to their future.