When our pediatrician first suggested that my two-year old daughter, Janie, might be autistic, I felt blindsided. Janie was playful and affectionate with a bold personality; how could she have autism?

I had some mild concerns that I expressed to the pediatrician—her lack of words and her disinterest in kids her own age. A few days before the appointment while swimming at a friend’s house, Janie had stood on steps of the pool with a tiny watering can filling and dumping cups over and over. My friend’s two-year-old son tried to engage her, saying her name repeatedly and even standing next to her with a matching watering can. Janie never even glanced at him.

She played with her two older siblings constantly, so I wasn’t overly worried. Her capacity to play on her own for long periods of time seemed to me a testament to her independence, and I hadn’t noticed that she never looked to me a new situation—until the pediatrician pointed it out to me.

The subtle symptoms of mild autism can be easy to miss. I walked into that appointment expecting a recommendation for speech therapy, not an evaluation for autism.

All of these behaviors and others that I had not picked on (or that had yet to surface), pointed to a child who does not understand communication or social situations—an autistic child.

After Janie was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (PDD-NOS) or mild autism, the “not otherwise specified” part of the diagnosis threw me for a loop, but also seemed apt, since I struggled for so long to specify myself what exactly made her autistic.

When I told family members and close friends that Janie was on the autism spectrum, they nodded politely to my incoherent explanations. They didn’t get it, and really neither did I.

Only several months later did I truly wrap my head around her diagnosis, and even now, almost three years later, I am still learning about autism and about Janie—and still mulling it all over.

Once Janie was diagnosed, we dove deep into therapy. Early Intervention paired Janie with a therapist who came to our house several hours a week to work with her—systematically identifying, reducing, and often eliminating entirely many of her autistic symptoms.

She became my conduit to Janie, explaining my daughter to me, about whom I realized I understood so little. If she ever needs a kidney, I will be the first in line.

Janie’s story is a success story. There is no vaccine or pill to cure an autistic child, but intensive therapy—the earlier the better—offers the best chance of preventing autistic symptoms from hardwiring for a child’s lifetime.

Our entire family, including Janie’s three siblings, became her therapists by interacting and playing with her in specific ways to develop her social and communication skills.

After one year of therapy, Janie’s pediatrician was “stunned” by her progress. I am not an expert in autism, but I am now an expert on my daughter and what has worked for us to minimize her autistic tendencies.

To me, autism is like a mysterious, invasive tree that grows differently inside each child. Some branches may be tiny and easy to snap off, while others are thick and growing wildly out of control.

I like to think I understand a good chunk of the tree that has manifested itself in my child. We have chopped off many of those branches, but new ones still grow. I am constantly learning more about Janie’s tree and how to keep it tamed, and maybe one day we can uproot it altogether.

I write this blog about Janie’s autism partly for selfish reasons. Writing is cathartic and helps me continue to better understand my daughter. The past few years have opened up an entirely new world for us, as challenging as it has been fascinating.

I also tell Janie’s story in the hope that sharing our experiences and the learning curve our family has traveled might be helpful or relatable to anyone who knows a child—in their classroom, neighborhood, or family—with mild autism, whether it is labeled PDD-NOS, Autism Spectrum Disorder Level I or II, high functioning autism, or in my simple terms, Autism Lite.

(*names have been changed)

Does your child have mild autism? How did you find out—did you suspect autism or did a doctor or other professional recognize it?