I Think My Child Might Be Autistic. What Now?

When You Know Something’s Different (Even If No One Believes You)

I remember a series of conversations with my wife that all went the same. “Do you think she’s like the others?” She was our first, we were unsure. Everyone we raised vague concerns with brushed them off. But we kept coming back to thinking something’s different. Something’s not quite right.

It wasn’t one big flashing sign. Not at first.

With our eldest, a girl, it was more of a slow realisation. She hit all her baby milestones, spoke early, never stopped talking actually. But somewhere around nursery age, it started to feel like she was falling behind. Not just academically, though that was the obvious bit. While other kids were drawing stick people with facial features and entire families in their pictures, she was still scribbling disconnected blobs and lines. Lovely blobs. Creative blobs. But still.

We did all the usual sensible stuff. Checked her vision and hearing. Grommets installed. Tick. She had glue ear. We hoped that was the answer.

But then there were the drop-offs. Every single time. Clinging, little hand gripping tight, not wanting to let us walk away in case we just left. Crying, hiding behind our legs. It didn’t matter if it was nursery, school, Rainbows, birthday parties you name it, she couldn’t separate. We felt horrible, but got told the same story “she settled fine in 5 minutes”, “she really enjoyed herself”.

Social stuff got harder too. She couldn’t understand why the other kids didn’t want to play with her. And when they did? She’d basically assign them roles like a mini-director, you be the student, you sit there, say this line. Every game was “playing teachers” and she was always the one with the authority.

We worried to each other thinking that something was going on. That she maybe needed a bit more support. We went to school, said, “We’re worried. She needs more support.”

They said, “She’s fine.” Nursery, year one, year two. Year after year. Same story.

Eventually, we pushed for assessments. Dyspraxia diagnosis came first, pattern recognition struggles explained a lot about reading, maths, and copying off the board. Support for this and moving to a smaller school helped, but there was still more needed.

We only had her assessed for autism to rule it out. Genuinely didn’t think she was because in our minds autism was different. Our second child was autistic and ADHD, a boy and a lot more obvious.

Then came the diagnosis: autistic.

We were surprised, but also… not? We had been digging into autism in girls, it was like a lightbulb moment. The masking. The social mimicry. The quiet struggles no one had seen because she looked like she was coping. Like a swan, paddling furiously under the water and looking serene on top, just to keep up.

This site helped a lot, by the way. Autistic Girls Network.

Not All Autistic Kids Look the Same (And That’s the Challenge)

Now, my eldest son? Totally different story.

That kid was off like a shot the second he could stand. Climbed before he walked. I swear he would’ve scaled the walls if physics let him. At his two-year health check, he did laps around the room, opened cupboards, tried to crawl onto the windowsill. The health visitor looked at me like, “Good luck with that one.”

He didn’t talk yet, just made noises. Communication was mostly grunts, pointing, and yelling. But the curiosity? The determination? Off the charts.

When he was three, we had him assessed by a full multi-disciplinary team. Diagnosis: speech delay, sensory processing disorder, learning difficulties. They told us, “He’ll grow out of it by the time he’s four. It’s just frustration.”

Well actually, he didn’t.

By four, he was still a sensory-seeking whirlwind. He once unscrewed an entire set of bongos with his bare fingers while we were in a school meeting. Another time I caught him standing in the toilet bowl to feel the water. 

His interests were finite, tractors, fire engines, bin lorries, anything that spun. He didn’t respond to his name. He only talked about what he liked and asked a million questions. Constantly.

We eventually paid for a private autism assessment when he was six. We were already on the NHS waiting list but the queue was epic. The private result? Autistic. Then the NHS confirmed it later and added ADHD, sensory processing, Tourettes and pica.

You’re Not Overthinking It, You’re Parenting

So yeah, when I say “I think my child might be autistic” is a loaded statement, I get it.

It’s not a one-size-fits-all feeling. Sometimes it’s slow and subtle. Other times it’s a full-body experience of “this kid is wired entirely differently and school has no idea how to deal with them.”

Sometimes you feel like a detective.
Sometimes you feel like a fraud.
Sometimes you Google 34 signs of autism at 3am and think, “Is this just me being a bad parent?”

You’re not.

What I needed to hear back then and what I want you to hear now is this:

You’re not a shit parent. You’re not making it up. You’re not overreacting.
If your gut says your kid needs support, you’re probably right.

The system might not listen the first time. Or the second.
But that doesn’t mean your concerns aren’t valid.

You’re doing an incredible job. Even if it doesn’t feel like it. Even if the house is upside down and the only thing holding your week together is biscuits and blind hope.

Logan

A transgender Dad in the UK. Bringing up 6 kids with my lovely wife. When I’ m not blogging or TikToking, you’ll usually find me in the garden.