The author reflects on the emotional journey of raising her autistic son, Nat, highlighting the complexity of her feelings. After visiting Nat at his group home, she experiences a nostalgic flood of memories from his early years, grappling with conflicting emotions of joy and fear. Despite the happiness of seeing Nat thrive, she recalls the struggle of understanding his condition and the duality of her feelings during those formative years. The recollection evokes a bittersweet understanding of love, vulnerability, and the beauty of their relationship.
The early years before Nat was diagnosed felt like I was split into two people. There was the me that enjoyed my little son...
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