In the early morning, a young mother boarded a plane with her six-month-old baby and a single duffel bag. That moment marked the beginning of her long, complicated, beautiful, and enduring autism journey, though she didn’t know it yet. She was just 18, scared but determined, escaping a life that had grown unsafe. The airport lights blurred behind her as she clutched her baby, her whole world wrapped in a blanket.
For months, she and her son drifted between places, sometimes sleeping on friends’ couches, sometimes with nowhere. It was survival, not stability. She worked any job she could find, always with one goal, to create a life worth living for her child. Eventually, she found a steady job in emergency services, later moving into the judicial system. It looked like things were finally falling into place. A roof over their heads. Food on the table. Hope in the air. But life had other plans.
As her son, Levi, grew, she noticed small things that made him different. Preschool felt like an uphill climb. He would struggle to connect with other kids, his emotions would explode without warning, and ordinary routines became battlefields. By kindergarten, the signs were impossible to ignore. The mother fought for answers, but the world didn’t make it easy. Teachers brushed off her concerns, schools limited his time, and she felt like she was fighting invisible walls just to let her child exist freely.
Every morning felt heavier than the last. Levi would curl into a ball on the floor, crying not to go to school, and she would kneel beside him, torn between duty and heartbreak. It wasn’t just about education anymore but about survival, his and hers. When the diagnosis of autism came, it wasn’t relief that hit her first; it was fear. Fear of what it meant, what he would face, fear that she wasn’t enough. Work became impossible. The phone calls, the meetings, the endless explanations, it drained her. That’s when photography entered her life, quietly at first, like a whisper. What began as a distraction turned into therapy. Through her camera, she found a way to capture love, light, and truth, even when the world around her felt dark.
But behind every pretty picture, there was exhaustion. The mother tried to take perfect photos of Levi, the ones with big smiles, eye contact, the kind that looked effortless for everyone else. Yet for them, each photo session was a storm. Coaxing, bribing, making silly faces just to get one fleeting shot where he looked “normal.” Out of thousands of pictures, maybe ten would be good enough. She hated that word, good enough. It haunted her.
Then came a breaking point. She was recovering from spine surgery, barely holding it together, while Levi was facing another emotional spiral at school. One night, as she sat crying on the couch, thinking about giving up, he came over and wrapped his little arms around her. He told her it was okay, that she was a good mom. That moment cracked her open. It wasn’t him who needed fixing. It was her perception that did. So she decided to celebrate the real him, not the version that fit neatly into other people’s boxes. Through photography, she began documenting his autism journey not as a struggle but as a story of strength. She photographed him laughing, running, and playing in costumes that made him come alive. One day, he’d be a Ghostbuster, the next a chef, sometimes a lawyer or a magician. His imagination was endless, and she learned to see that as magic, not difference.
His cousin Lola, his best friend, often joined in. Together, they created their own world, full of color, costumes, and unconditional love. It was in those photographs that the mother finally saw what had always been there. A boy who didn’t need to be “normal” to be extraordinary. Today, she celebrates his autism journey with pride. His quirks, obsessions, genius, laughter, all of it. She no longer hides behind perfection. She embraces the imperfections that make their story real. Because love, after all, is not about fitting in. It’s about seeing someone exactly as they are, and realizing that maybe, that’s the most beautiful picture of all.
