Our First Year

After the whirlwind of his birth and the fog of those first few days, we finally came home to start life as a family of three. I thought birthing a tiny human would be the hardest part — boy, was I WRONG.

I remember looking at my husband like, “What did we get ourselves into?” How were we supposed to take care of this tiny little boy who needed us for absolutely everything? I was recovering from a c-section, my husband only had two weeks before going back to third shift (which should honestly be illegal for new parents), and I had no idea how I was going to figure any of this out.

Bringing a baby home was nothing like I pictured. Everyone told me, “You’ll know what to do,” but honestly? I wasn’t sure I was ever going to figure it out.

The first few nights were rough. I tried breastfeeding, and I did not realize how exhausted a person could be and still be expected to function. After a couple weeks of pain, dreading feedings, and literally cringing at the thought of latching, I finally made the decision to switch to formula. And the moment I did, it felt like a massive weight came off my chest. A huge one.

Slowly, we started figuring things out — feedings, diaper changes, some kind of routine. When my husband went back to work, the nights alone hit me hard. I never said it out loud at the time, but I was scared to be alone with my baby. What if I did something wrong?

Time went on, and we eventually found a rhythm. Good days, bad days. Good nights, bad nights. It was a slow unfolding of learning, adjusting, and trying to trust my instincts… even when I didn’t fully understand them.

The First Few Months

J was hitting milestones and looked great at each wellness visit. Still, there were a few things I noticed early on. His hands stayed tightly clenched for the first couple of months — they wouldn’t fully open. Eventually they did, so I brushed it off… but later, I’d think about it again.

He was gassy and a terrible burper. We lived on gas drops and slow-flow nipples. And honestly? He cried a lot. Then again, I cried a lot too. (Later, I’d learn I was dealing with postpartum depression — but that’s a story for another day.)

Those early months felt like survival mode. We were just trying to stay afloat.

Those Tiny Gut Feelings

I can’t pinpoint the exact day it happened, but at some point, I started to feel like J was just… different.

He loved watching fans spin and staring at lights. He responded to his name, but not consistently. He made eye contact and smiled, but there were little things I couldn’t shake off. He flapped his hands sometimes, and something deep inside me whispered, “He’s autistic.”

I mentioned it to family, and they reassured me he wasn’t.

“That’s normal.”

“He’s still little.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

And maybe they were right… but I didn’t believe anyone. My gut was saying something else.

The Questions Got Louder

As he got closer to one, that quiet gut feeling wasn’t so quiet anymore. The differences became more noticeable.

He babbled, but words weren’t coming yet — no “mama,” no “dada.” He liked playing by himself. He was fascinated by wheels and would watch them spin with full concentration. He lined up cars instead of playing with them.

None of it was alarming on its own. They were tiny things. Subtle things.

But together? They were forming a picture I wasn’t quite ready to look at yet.

When He Was Almost One

As J got closer to his first birthday, and he was not speaking any words yet - my heart felt like it was in two places at once. - the joy of watching him grow and the quiet worry growing in the back of my mind. He was (and is) the sweetest little boy - but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different.

Nothing big - just small things that kept adding up into one bigger picture.

He wasn’t trying to speak words. He was flapping his hands and toe walking. He wasn’t always responding to his name. He wasn’t trying to mimic sounds.

Other people told me not to worry, but it’s really hard to ignore your gut feeling.

I remember looking at J and realizing just how much we had both changed in a single year. He wasn’t the newborn we brought home from the hospital as confused new parents. He was curious, determined and full of energy.

Part of me thought that once we made it through the first year, things would slow down…or at least make a little more sense. The second year brought new challenges, new questions, and new moments that pushed me to grow all over again.

But that is where the next chapter begins.