Twenty years ago, I was a relatively（ 相对地） young developmental（ 发展的） pediatrician. That's a pediatrician that specializes（成为…专家） in seeing children with a variety of different developmental（ 发展的） disabilities（残疾）. Children with autism, down syndrome（[临床] 综合症状）, intellectual（智力的） disability（残疾）, cerebral（脑的） palsy. I was asked to evaluate（评价） three-year-old twin boys. They had bright blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. And they looked so similar that I was grateful that their mother had dressed them in t-shirts with their names on them.

  Their parents were young and nervous. The boys weren't talking like other children their age. Something that was becoming even more obvious to the parents as their younger son was developing in some ways surpassing（超越） his older twin brothers. I saw the boys and I noted that they were both pretty agile（敏捷的）. They used very few words. And they were pretty efficient（效率高的） at getting their needs met, getting things for themselves without requesting any help from adults.

  I asked the parents many questions, including how easy is it for you to get their attention, to which the mother responded, "It's not easy." There were ducks swimming on our pool the other day and I was jumping up and down and pointing and directing the boys to look out the window. But they weren't interested. I referred the boys for some additional（附加的） evaluations（ 评价）. Speech language testing, developmental assessments（评估）, and testing specific for the possibility of the diagnosis（诊断） of autism. When our evaluations were completed, I met with the parents who were joined by the grandfather to share what we'd found（找到）.

  I told them all the information we've gathered and the testing we've done and what you've told us indicates that both of your boys have autism. Before I could proceed（开始）, the grandfather stopped me and asked, "How can you be so calm? You've just diagnosed（诊断） both of my grandsons with autism." His questions stopped me in my tracks, but I managed to respond, "Because I know it's going to be okay. You are all here together, supporting each other, ready to get the boys started in therapy（治疗）. I know it's going to be okay." If I'm being honest, I didn't really know for certain things would be okay. And I wasn't even sure what okay（好） was back then. But it's what I felt compelled（强迫） to say in the moment in response to that question.

  And I believed it. I believed that they were going to be okay. As a developmental pediatrician practicing for over 25 years, I've communicated messages like that to families thousands of times. I've seen a wide range of responses, tears（ 眼泪）, anger（怒）, fear, denial（否认）, relief（减轻） at confirmation（确认） that their concerns（关心） were validated after being reassured by well-intentioned friends and family members that everything's fine. I've seen fathers jump to what this means 20 years from now and mothers focus on the next day, the next hour. Many parents have told me they don't remember a thing I said after sharing a diagnosis.

  Regardless（不顾一切地） of their reaction, I've worked（使工作） hard to make（使） sure parents can stand back up and move forward, reminding them that their child is still perfect, but there's some things we need to do. Over the years, I've learned what I didn't really know when I was talking to the family of those twins, which is what it means to be okay. The thousands of patients and their families that I've worked with over the decades in between have taught me that lesson, what it means to be okay for them, their child, and even for me. So that's what I'm here to talk to you about today. I'm here to tell you that it's going to be okay. The child's going to be okay.

  The family's going to be okay. And yes, even I'm going to be okay. Let's start with the child. One of the many wonderful things about being a developmental pediatrician is getting to see children progress（前进） over time. Barring（禁止） rare unusual conditions, all children progress, but their rates of progress may vary（改变） and come in fits（合身） and spurts. Expecting children to progress, to gain（获得） new skills and to manage their behavior contributes（捐献） greatly（大大地） to their progress.

  If we don't expect them to progress, how can they? Children control three major areas that significantly（意味深长地） impact families. When they sleep, what they eat, and when and how they use the bathroom. One of the things I've told my patients' families is to maintain（维持） their expectations（期待） that their children will make（使） progress in these areas. They will learn to sleep through the night. They will eat a wider range of foods, and they will learn to use the potty.

  At the same time, parents and caregivers were teaching me about how they came to maintain those expectations, including the mother who said, "I don't treat him any different than any of my other kids." Or the mother whose young adult son often said, "But I have autism," in response to things he didn't think he could do. To which she responded, "I don't care." My patients have taught me a tremendous（极大的） amount about the prejudice（偏见） of low expectations（期待）, sometimes referred to as the soft bigotry of low expectations. This can apply to many groups, but it definitely applies to people with disabilities. If we don't expect someone to accomplish（完成） something, the likelihood（可能性） that they won't is pretty high.

  I have many patients that communicate using a keyboard, typing things they wish to express. Some of my patients are a little particular about who they will communicate with in this way. I asked one of my patients, "What helps him communicate with certain people?" And he typed, "It's the feeling that they believe in me."