“Did you take Tylenol when you were pregnant with me?”
That was the text from my 21-year-old son, Jack, just minutes after President Trump’s press conference linking autism and Tylenol. Jack was diagnosed at 18 months old — and now it felt like he was really asking me: Did I cause this?
My chest tightened. My stomach dropped. For a moment, I felt hollow and unmoored.
We told Jack he was autistic when he was 8. Since then, it’s never been a secret in our home. We’ve always spoken openly about his strengths, his challenges, and the possibilities for his future.
But this was the first time he’d asked about why. And for the first time, I didn’t have an answer.
Carrie Cariello says her son, Jack, texted her shortly after Trump’s press conference on Monday to ask if she took Tylenol while pregnant.
Shining a Spotlight
Whether you embrace or reject the latest political narrative, one thing is clear: autism is back in the spotlight. And that’s a good thing — because this is where the work begins.
What causes autism? With prevalence numbers continuing to rise, it’s a question worth asking, even if the motives of those asking aren’t always clear.
A new report from the Department of Health and Human Services suggests that acetaminophen use may increase the risk of autism — though the science is more nuanced. Studies show an association, not causation, and researchers emphasize using the “lowest effective dose for the shortest duration,” rather than avoiding it entirely.
For two decades, guilt has lingered around me like smoke at a campfire.
This latest accusation feels especially personal. Tylenol has long been considered safe and recommended by doctors. Yet again, mothers are the ones under scrutiny, called to defend choices we were assured were safe.
Trump said on Monday that acetaminophen can increase the risk of autism. But the science tells a different story: studies show an association, not causation.
Real Families — Real Challenges
Parents of diagnosed children are often told to focus on the silver linings: At least he talks! At least you have other kids! At least you can access the services you need!
Yet for many families, the future feels shadowed. Adults in diapers. Aggressive behaviors. Entire communities left on the margins of a culture that prizes a single, narrow trajectory — sports, academics, marriage, career.
Autism didn’t just arrive; for many of us, it disrupted that path entirely.
Instead of SAT prep courses and college visits, we worry about guardianship. We navigate Social Security benefits. Graduation ceremonies are replaced with high school programs that stretch well into the 20s. Children old enough to buy a cocktail, yet unable to count the change for a cookie.
Still, we keep going. We adapt, we advocate, and we persist.
“We speak openly about his gifts, his vulnerabilities, and what his future may look like,” Cariello said.
And then we hear words like epidemic and disease — and we stop in our tracks. Because autism is neither of those things.
So what is it? What do you call it? This is the age-old question that haunts parents and politicians alike. Amid the political rhetoric, one question is often overlooked: Where are the humans?
What We Really Need in the Autism Discourse
In our latest book, Autism Out Loud, I collaborate with mothers Kate Swenson and Adrian Wood. Together, we share our experiences raising children on the spectrum — each with a vastly different autism profile — and explore what it truly means to live, learn, and grow alongside them.
There is a wide discrepancy in services and support across the country, Cariello notes.
At 21, her son Jack manages his own Amazon Subscribe & Save account but doesn’t grasp the concept of a lease. Fourteen-year-old Cooper, Kate’s nonverbal son, plays in an adaptive baseball league, rounding the bases with his mother cheering him on. Adrian’s 12-year-old son, Amos, is just beginning to understand how to tackle homework.
It may seem like a simple illustration, but the experiences of these three boys underscore one undeniable truth: autism is a spectrum. It encompasses a wide range of temperaments, behaviors, abilities, and needs.
This week, a fire has been lit. We will do the only thing we know how to do: use the flame to bring autism out of the shadows, and into the light.
Carrie Cariello
Similarly, there is a wide discrepancy in services and support across the country. Some children receive a diagnosis as early as toddlerhood, while others aren’t identified until adolescence.
A prevailing concern looms: what happens when children with autism grow up — when traits once seen as charming or quirky are perceived as frustrating, or even threatening?
Yet certain themes of autism are universal: grief, new beginnings, an unexpected life. How we experience these themes varies, depending on where we—and our children—fall along the spectrum.
Cariello said it’s encouraging that the issue is getting attention — and that the community of autism families will continue to fight for better support and opportunities for their loved ones.
Autism is not a gift. Autism is not a tragedy.
Autism is not an identity. Autism is not a choice.
Autism is heartbreaking. Autism is magical.
Autism unites families. Autism can also strain and even destroy them.
Round and round we go. Perhaps, in the spectrum’s Venn diagram, there is a space where joy and sadness overlap, where curiosity meets research.
We cannot die — this is the mantra that vibrates beneath our ribcage. We cannot leave our vulnerable children behind. Yet we will, because immortality belongs to no one.
In her book Autism Out Loud, Cariello collaborates with other mothers to explore the realities of raising children on the spectrum.
So we endure being at the center of yet another political storm, driven by one collective goal: to do better.
Do a better job investigating the causes. Do a better job with early diagnoses. Do a better job building an infrastructure where members of our families can work, love, live, and thrive.
This is our call to action. This is what we want on the to-do list.
This week, a fire has been lit. As a community, we will do the only thing we know how to do: use the flame to bring autism out of the shadows and into the light.
This is good. This is where the work is. Growth is always disruptive.
“No, buddy,” I typed back. “I didn’t.”
