The month of April marks Autism Awareness Month, a time to recognize the spectrum. Yet, Amy Trahey, founder of Great Lakes Engineering Group, insists that awareness remains incomplete without understanding. "There is still a lot of work to be done," Trahey says. "People think they know what autism is, but the reality for families and individuals living with it is far more complex. Awareness without understanding doesn't help anyone; it needs to come with empathy and support."

Recent data underscores the scale and urgency of that gap. According to recent studies, approximately 1 in 31 children has been identified with autism spectrum disorder. Although increased diagnosis rates often reflect better screening and broader definitions, Trahey insists that it doesn't translate into a nuanced understanding of the condition.

For many families, the challenge begins not with the diagnosis itself, but with the weight of assumptions that come with it. "A diagnosis doesn't come with a roadmap. What you've been told, what you've heard, what you think autism is, it doesn't prepare you for what it actually means inside your home," she explains.

The Trahey Family
The Trahey Family

Her experience began with Quinn, her eldest son's diagnosis at two and a half years old, a moment that arrived when she was pregnant with her second child. At the time, she was forced to process clinical information, statistical probabilities, and emotional uncertainty all at once. She learned about the increased likelihood of autism in a second male child, which carried an immense psychological weight. "You hear the probabilities, especially with another boy on the way, and it's terrifying. You start thinking about worst-case scenarios because that's what the world has taught you to expect," she says.

That expectation, she explains, is often built on incomplete or outdated perceptions. In her experience, autism is still too frequently framed through limitation, with less attention given to capability, intelligence, and individuality. Trahey came upon that realization gradually as she began to understand her son beyond the diagnosis itself.

"He is gifted," she says. "He is brilliant in ways that don't always come out in traditional communication. People make assumptions because they don't see it immediately, and if they see what they don't understand, they label it and miss what's actually there. Intelligence doesn't disappear just because expression looks different."

Communication became one of the earliest and most defining challenges. Like many children on the spectrum, her son initially struggled with verbal expression, creating a disconnect between what he understood and what he could convey. Bridging that gap, she recalls, required structured intervention, including visual communication systems, repetition, and carefully designed routines that translated abstract needs into tangible choices.

Trahey explains, "You break everything down into something manageable. You meet them where they are, and then you build from there. It takes time, patience, and a willingness to learn a different language."

Progress came in small and meaningful steps, including pointing to indicate a choice instead of withdrawing, using pictures to communicate wants, forming words after long stretches of silence, and gradually holding eye contact longer. "Every small step matters. What looks ordinary to someone else can represent years of work," she says.

Quinn Trahey
Quinn Trahey

Sensory sensitivities added another layer of complexity. Trahey explains that what feels ordinary to most, like a brightly lit store, a noisy event, or a crowded room, could be overwhelming for her son. Yet instead of sheltering him from these experiences, she chose the path of empowering him, giving him tools to engage with the world in ways that worked for him. Headphones to manage noise or weighted vests to ease anxiety were strategies she believed could help him navigate each situation confidently.

"You don't remove them from the world; they don't need that. What they need is just a couple more tools in their toolbox to be able to take the sensory overload," she adds.

Trahey emphasizes that advocacy is central to creating lasting inclusion. In the early stages, she notes that parents often bear the responsibility of interpreting needs, navigating challenges, addressing misconceptions, and securing the right support. As children grow, she says the focus must shift toward fostering independence, helping them develop the skills to express their own needs and advocate for themselves. "I will always advocate for my son," she says. "But he also needs to learn how to speak for himself in a way that people can understand. That's where growth happens."

Emerging technologies, she notes, are facilitating that self-sufficiency, transforming how individuals on the spectrum navigate communication. "Technology is giving people a voice who didn't have one before," she says. "It's opening doors that were closed for a long time."

Tools such as AI-assisted platforms and other assistive technologies can help those who struggle with verbal expression convey complex thoughts, emotions, and preferences in ways that were previously difficult or impossible. From her perspective, these innovations can create new opportunities for connection and allow individuals to participate more fully in life on their own terms. Still, Trahey argues that while tools can enable communication, acceptance determines whether that communication is heard and valued.

Misconceptions continue to shape how autism is perceived in schools, workplaces, and public spaces. According to her, the tendency to equate difference with deficiency can limit opportunity and reinforce barriers that extend beyond childhood. "Being on the spectrum doesn't mean you can't have relationships, build a career, or contribute meaningfully," she says. "It means your path might look different, and that difference deserves respect."

Her son's development reflects that perspective. She notes how deep interests, what she refers to as "splinter skills," have provided a foundation for engagement, allowing him to connect with others through subjects he understands deeply. She says, "You use what they love to expand their world. That's how you build confidence and create opportunities for engagement."

Autism Awareness Month, in Trahey's view, should prompt more than surface-level recognition. She emphasizes that meaningful change begins with individual reflection. "Ask yourself what you think you know," she says. "Ask where that understanding came from, and whether it's actually true."

Trahey believes that families navigating autism live within a reality that is often misunderstood from the outside. Understanding, in that sense, becomes an active responsibility. It asks for humility and a willingness to overlook assumptions. For Trahey, that shift holds the potential to reshape how autism is perceived, and how individuals on the spectrum can be supported, included, and valued in the world around them.

"Be aware. Have empathy. Learn about it," Trahey says. "Because even if it doesn't affect you directly, it will touch someone you care about."