It was a somber Thursday afternoon on August 31, 2017. My wife, Jessica, and I found ourselves in a specialist’s office, anxiously awaiting the nurse practitioner’s assessment of our two-year-old son, Noah. This child development expert had observed Noah, posed questions about his daily routines, and engaged him in various activities. Having already qualified for early intervention services, we were no strangers to developmental concerns. Our daughter, Sophia, had also received early intervention for speech delays, but preschool had unlocked her communication, and we held onto the hope for a similar trajectory with Noah.
illustration of a streaming play button vs. coaxial cable
Then, the nurse practitioner returned, uttering the words we had subconsciously dreaded: “Noah is autistic.”
The diagnosis felt weighty, reshaping the future we envisioned for our son. We received the standard next steps, a blur of best and worst-case scenarios for Noah’s development. Leaving the office, as we buckled Noah into his car seat, a wave of emotion washed over us. We wept, a raw grief for the future we thought we were losing, for the challenges Noah might face, and the experiences that might remain out of reach.
About a week later, seeking help for Sophia’s sudden toothache, we found ourselves at the dentist’s office. We had planned to ask our regular dentist about strategies for Noah’s dental hygiene, anticipating resistance to teeth-brushing. However, our usual dentist was absent, replaced by a substitute we had never met – a jovial, animated man who charmed Sophia with jokes.
As our appointment concluded, we mentioned Noah’s recent autism diagnosis to the receptionist, inquiring about resources. Just then, the substitute dentist emerged from the back, overhearing our conversation. “Can I talk to you two for a minute?” he asked, leading us to the vestibule. Truthfully, I felt a wave of awkwardness and judged the situation as slightly bizarre.
“I just want to let you know that your son will be OK,” he reassured us. “I’m autistic. I didn’t speak until I was five. Like, truly autistic. But now, I’m married, I have a daughter, I’m a dentist. I’m fine because my parents never let me believe I couldn’t be. Your son will be too.”
His words triggered another wave of tears, this time of a different nature. In the years that followed, recounting this story, I would always end with, “Noah’s going to be a dentist!”
We never saw that substitute dentist again, but his brief encounter left an indelible mark. It was the first tangible glimpse of a positive future we could envision for our son. Now, I see another such vision.
The Most Beautiful Girl in the World
Netflix’s Emmy-winning series, “Love on the Spectrum,” offers families like mine multiple positive representations of autistic individuals navigating relationships and communication as adults. Creator Cian O’Clery’s inspiration stemmed from his work on “Employable Me,” a docuseries focused on individuals with disabilities in the workplace. Since its debut, “Love on the Spectrum” has resonated deeply, drawing countless heartfelt messages from viewers eager to share their stories.
“People connect with the show because of its respect, honesty, and authenticity,” O’Clery explains. “We receive numerous emails from individuals yearning to participate, many who have never been on a date and are seeking connection. It’s heartbreaking that we can’t include everyone.”
Co-creator Karina Holden, whose own son is also autistic, emphasizes the show’s universal appeal, centered on a fundamental human question: “What does love look like?”
“The beauty is in the universality of the quest for love,” Holden notes. “Witnessing individuals articulate the most fundamental and honest questions about love is incredibly moving, and that’s reflected in the show’s impact.”
Season two of the U.S. version of “Love on the Spectrum” introduces a diverse cast of singles seeking love, from 18-year-old Journey to 64-year-old Steve, each with their own unique perspectives and experiences.
Among them are returning fan favorite Abbey, who found love with David in the previous season, and newcomer Connor, a 24-year-old “House of the Dragon” enthusiast searching for a partner who shares his passions.
Abbey and David’s relationship continues to flourish, taking them on a dream safari to Africa to see lions. A particularly touching scene captures Abbey’s mother, Christine Romeo, and David’s sisters watching the couple embrace at sunset. Christine’s tears are not of sadness, but of relief. For parents of children on the spectrum, the question of their child’s future after they are gone is a constant worry. In that moment, Christine’s expression conveys a profound sense of peace, a realization that Abbey, like Noah’s dentist assured us, will indeed be okay.
“I know some terms are discouraged, but let’s be direct,” Romeo shared in an interview. “If you face communication challenges and struggle with basic functions, it’s a disadvantage. My constant fear has been whether Abbey could navigate the world and build relationships independently.”
She adds, “Then David entered our lives, and his family is incredible. Having someone who truly understands her is more valuable than any ‘perfect’ partner. Knowing she has David, I feel I can finally relax about her future. Before, I felt I had to stay here, like, ‘God, you gave me this child, you have to keep me here.’”
Connor’s mother, Lise Smith, a new addition to the show, explains how Connor’s younger brother encouraged him to reach out to O’Clery. Coming from a close-knit family, Smith initially believed Connor’s siblings provided sufficient social connection. “I became complacent, thinking his large family was enough,” Smith admits. “This journey revealed his deep craving for his own identity and social circle, something I completely missed. The biggest wake-up call was hearing him tell a producer, ‘I’m lonely. My siblings have partners and go out. I’m always home with my parents.’ That hit me hard.”
Each autistic individual’s journey is unique, with diverse outcomes. But one thing remains clear: I wouldn’t change Noah for the world; his autism is integral to who he is.
When asked what they want viewers to understand about them, Abbey and Connor offered insightful responses.
Abbey explains, “I want people to understand my type of autism, a communication disorder. Expressing myself can be difficult, but I’ve made significant progress. As an adult, I have much more language, thanks to hard work. That’s why I always looked forward to adulthood, knowing my communication would improve.”
Connor, with a touch of humor, anticipates being “swarmed by fans,” but then wisely states, “I want people to know that while I value my solitude, I’m not afraid to step outside my comfort zone and take risks. Life without risk is a life unlived, even if it’s challenging to push boundaries.”
Unprompted, Connor offers a message for Noah, now nine years old: “Don’t let anyone tell you what he can or can’t be.”
Connor’s message resonates powerfully. Is Love On The Spectrum Real? Absolutely. “Love on the Spectrum” beautifully illustrates that love, connection, and fulfilling relationships are attainable for individuals with autism. The show dismantles misconceptions and showcases the authentic emotions and desires of autistic individuals. It provides hope and reassurance to families like mine, highlighting that different doesn’t mean less, and that love, in all its forms, is a universal human experience that includes everyone on the spectrum.
