We Had to Hand Our Son Over

Luke has four children. Three of them are autistic. His youngest, Oscar, is non-verbal with PICA — he'll eat anything, including sand and his own faeces.

For years, Luke and his wife managed. He gave up his job as an HGV driver because the phone calls from home couldn't wait two hours for him to get back from Hereford. His parents were their only support network — his dad had worked with disabled children his whole life.

Then his dad died unexpectedly. And his mum said the words no one wants to hear: "I can't do it on my own anymore."

Support workers came on weekends. Some were good. Others turned up 45 minutes late, by which point Oscar had stripped naked and was too dis-regulated to leave. One time, staff at a soft play centre had to tell the support workers that Oscar was naked — because they hadn't noticed.

Eventually, Luke and his wife had to say the hardest thing a parent can say: we can't meet his needs anymore.

They explored residential care. The council's response? They wanted to explore foster care first — because it was cheaper. No support systems. No respite for the foster family. Just school. Luke asked them directly: "Why do you think complete strangers are going to do a better job than we did for eight years?"

They won. Oscar is now in a specialist residential setting with speech and language therapy, 24-hour support, and a chance at communication. Luke still has full parental responsibility. They see him every fortnight. They can bring him home whenever they want.

But it doesn't sit right. It never will.

Luke also shares the fight for his middle son's EHCP — tribunal, legal battles, a previous school that sent nothing but a date of birth when asked for evidence. That education costs £120,000 a year. Half a million pounds by the time he finishes secondary school.

And he says something most parents won't say out loud: "I hate autism."

Not everyone's autism. His autism. The one that means his family can't go to Christmas gatherings. The one that meant handing his son over. The one that doesn't fit the "superpower" narrative.

This is what the system doesn't want you to see.