One day at a time, dear. One day at a time.
Although I'm quite high-functioning, I grew up before the diagnosis existed, in a time and place where being "different" in any way was considered very, very bad indeed. To this day, the better among my relatives tell me, "I know you're defective, but I love you anyway."
In the '80s, society's idea of "help" for an Aspie kid was, in effect, a good kick in the pants.
From 12 on, I got the best help of my life-- I was raised by a dope-smoking Aspie single father with a 60-hour-a-week job in the coal mines. What did he do that was so great?? Realized that I was similar to himself, taught me things he'd learned about coping with life, took the time to listen to me, did not have the time or resources (or inclination) to cater to me.
If we could do it, you can do it. You know that something's different, what's different, and obviously you care enough to learn how to teach your child how to deal with it.
One day at a time. Both of you will be OK, eventually.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"