When Love Looks Different: What I’ve Learned About Love from My Autistic Son

What I’ve Learned About Love from My Autistic Son

Recently, while I was waiting to pick up my son at his Applied Behavior Analysis therapy center, I observed a mom giving her daughter a long hug. I smiled as I watched them, and then I began to reminisce on how much I used to long for that same kind of affection with my own son. 

When he was younger, affection was not part of his world. If I followed him into a room, he would immediately close the door behind himself to keep me out. Sometimes he was already inside a room, and whenever anyone tried to enter, he would quickly push them out and shut the door. If I tried to pick him up so we could get somewhere quickly, the result was often a meltdown—crying, screaming, even self-harm. Those moments were painful, exhausting, and embarrassing, but more than anything, they left me hoping. Hoping that someday things would be different. 

It took time for me to learn that affection does not always look like a hug. During those early years, I had to understand that children with autism often show love in different ways. It might be letting you sit quietly beside them, bringing you their favorite toy, or allowing you to brush their hair. For my son, it was pressing his forehead against mine for a few seconds before running off, or the bursts of laughter at certain sounds—the little reactions that told me he was present, even if he did not reach for me. These may not be the traditional signs of affection I once expected, but they are just as real, just as powerful, and every bit as meaningful as a hug. 

Then one day, everything changed. Out of nowhere, he walked up to his mom, opened his arms, and gave her a hug. We froze, completely stunned. I remember saying, “Me too, me too,” though it did not happen for me right away. But eventually, it did. 

Now, things are different. When I walk out the door, my son wants to be with me. When I am in the room, he is right there too. He does not always “do” things with me in the way I once imagined, but his presence—his choice to be close—is something I will never take for granted. 

That’s why hugs mean so much to me now. I know how long I waited for them. Love does not always come as a hug. Sometimes it is a laugh, a small gesture, or simply being there. It may look different, but it is always real.