John, today is your 28th birthday.  Happy birthday, you gorgeous boy.  My, how time flies.

Twenty eight years ago I was in hospital with what I had first thought was crippling stomach pains brought on by eating a whole family size apple pie. You made your grand entrance at three minutes to midnight and it was love at first sight. Your dad and I were completely besotted.

Your first birthday was marked with a big party at home, with friends and family. When it was time to light the candles on your cake, we all stood around and sang Happy Birthday while you screamed blue murder.

Later, I found you playing happily under the dining table. You were eating the remains of some cocktail sausages that had been half squashed into the carpet. Being the cheeky boy that you are you squished a little sausage into my eye as I tried to coax you out from under the table, but you wouldn’t come and join the others so I crawled under and sat playing with you. You had found your safe place, away from everybody and, as you were quite happy playing by yourself, you pushed me gently away. You were already showing signs of autism but it would be a long time before I realised this.

Sometime later, the dads, who had been at a rugby do, arrived at the party en mass.  Before I could stop them they all started singing to you, very loudly. You, still under the table, screamed, and by the time I got to you your little hands were firmly clasped over your ears, your eyes wild with terror. Your senses were being overloaded but I didn’t know it then.

Your first party had ended up being a nightmare for you.  You had tried so hard but eventually the Happy Birthday song had tipped you over the edge. We sang it again on your second birthday but the flying birthday cake soon made us stop!

It took you until you were 18 before you could tolerate the song and nowadays you are cool with it as long as you have one finger in your ear and a present under your arm.

These days, John, just like the Queen, you have two birthdays. Your official one is always celebrated on the day itself, wherever you are, either at home with us or at Nelson’s Croft. This year as it falls on a Tuesday you are celebrating at Nelson’s Croft. Your wonderful support staff always spoil you and you get a cake, presents and cards. More importantly, you get exactly the kind of birthday you can cope with – one you can just dip in and out of as you see fit.

When you come home on Friday you will have another birthday celebration. You have already told me that you want your cake, balloons and presents on the Saturday and at three o’clock precisely.

John, you have taught me many things about life in your 28 years, none more so than that we are all different and as such should be respected for our differences not ridiculed or bullied. Through you I have learnt that what is pleasurable to one person may be painful to another and that we mustn’t try to make everyone follow the same path or live by the same rules. You have shown me that with autism there are no rules and when you have met one person with autism, you have done just that, met one person with autism. You are individual and unique, autism does not define who you are.

Johnelmo, I love you more than life itself, I have had the most ridiculous fun with you over the past 28 years. I am looking forward to a special gooey cheek lick and a million bear hugs next time I see you.

This article first appeared on Julie’s blog, Close Encounters of the Autistic Kind and is reproduced with kind permission