Quinn Trahey & Ty Trahey
A calendar often signals attention, but it can hardly sustain responsibility. Every April, Autism Awareness Month arrives, bringing with it a plethora of campaigns and corporate messaging that may momentarily sharpen focus. Then, almost predictably, the urgency can become ephemeral by its very nature. Amy Trahey, founder of Great Lakes Engineering Group and mother of two, has understood the dire consequences of the fleeting advocacy for autism firsthand, attributing it to failure in conscientious follow-through.
“Awareness months are important, but they’re meant to educate people who don’t live this every day. They’re not meant to be the finish line,” Trahey says, reflecting upon her own lived experience. For her, autism exists far outside the confines of a designated month.
Autism spectrum disorder affects one in 31 children in the US. Yet Trahey observes that statistics alone fail to capture the variability embedded within the word ‘Spectrum.’ In her view, each individual’s needs, communication styles, atypical behaviors, and cognitive abilities may all differ in ways that demand nuance and long-term support. Public campaigns, she believes, can flatten that complexity into straightforward narratives that may leave families to navigate the harsher realities in silence.
Trahey points to a persistent misconception that visibility equals impact. “If we treat these months as a checkbox, something to promote a brand or show we care, then nothing actually changes,” she says. “Real change happens in the quiet months, when no one’s watching.”
Having lived through those moments, Trahey highlights that the reality of autism, particularly for individuals with higher needs, extends into every hour of every day. She points to assisted living facilities as another facet of that tension, adding that those environments are often viewed through a lens of judgment. It may be perceived as families relinquishing responsibility, but the truth, Trahey argues, is far more complex.
“There’s this assumption that if you place a loved one in a supportive home, it means you’ve given up. In reality, though, it means that you’re making the hardest, most responsible decision, because you recognize the level of care required, and you know then that it’s more than what you can give,” she says.
The level of care she points to is often all-consuming. Research suggests that parents of children with autism spectrum disorder have poorer quality of life and higher levels of stress. The stress can manifest through financial strains, as therapies, medical care, and specialized education often come with substantial costs.
Time, Trahey adds, can become another scarce resource. “Maintaining a career while providing continuous care can feel virtually impossible,” she says. “Parents get worn out. It’s like having another full-time job on top of everything else, figuring out treatments, managing behaviors, and navigating systems that aren’t built for you. It’s exhausting, to say the least.”
Trahey’s own experiences reflect the intricate balance of navigating grief, caregiving, and, in the face of it all, embodying resilience. After the tragic loss of her husband, she watched her son Quinn process the world in ways that required extraordinary sensitivity. Communication became an instrument to exercise caution and precision. “You can’t be careless with your words. You have to break things down and communicate to a level that the individual can understand, one piece at a time, one bite at a time,” Trahey explains.
Such moments reveal both the fragility and strength within the autism community. Trahey notes that advances in assistive technology have opened new pathways for expression, giving voice to individuals who might otherwise remain unheard. Devices that translate thoughts into text, or visual systems that facilitate communication, represent meaningful progress. Still, she believes that access to these tools. and the broader systems that support them, remain uneven.
As the month draws to a close, Trahey pushes for a shift in conversations, from episodic awareness to cohesive integration. Empathy, she insists, cannot be seasonal, and support cannot depend on when it appears in headlines. “Systems, from workplace to healthcare, must evolve to reflect the realities families face year-round. That’s how real change begins,” she says.
The calendar will turn again, as it always does. Campaigns will return, headlines will reappear, and awareness will rise once more. The question, Trahey notes, is whether the commitment will endure in the spaces between. “Even if you help one person understand, that’s meaningful. But imagine what could happen if we didn’t stop there,” Trahey reflects. “Everyone has something they’re carrying. Autism just happens to be one that doesn’t pause when the month ends.”
Meaningful impact, then, can emerge through consistency, humility, and a willingness to engage with discomfort long after the trends fade into the void.
