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Strong like Saints. Right?

We are told we are strong. That God chose us. That special kids go to special parents. We are commended, complimented, compared to saints. When society isn’t judging us in Target stores, it’s perching us upon dangerously high pedestals against our will, pedestals that prove wobbly on even the best of days. And we do…

Attitude Adjustment on Aisle 17

Trust me when I tell you that what came out of my mouth wasn’t at all what I truly wanted to say to her.  But I was suspended in that fragile moment between trying to hold it together for the sake of my children and succumbing to the need to come apart at the seams,…

The Letter.

There’s a letter out there written by a mom of “NORMAL” children to a mom raising a “retard” and it’s spreading like wildfire   Breaking hearts in its wake leaving a bitter aftertaste mouths wide-open while defeated heads shake this letter is every autism parent’s worst nightmare   A neatly typed assertion: someone’s baby isn’t…

Thirty Seconds

The irony is not lost on me. Yesterday, while reading an AP article I was interviewed for about wandering and elopement among the autism community, I turned to my husband and asked that dreaded question: “Where’s Andrew?” We had been mere inches from him all morning, contained together in the close quarters of our living…

A Toast.

I’d like to propose a toast: To my son Ian, who, at the age of 9 has more grace and patience and maturity in his little pinkie than most adults have in their entire bodies. A boy who manages to remain calm, cool, and collected under some of the most challenging circumstances. An amazing young…

Undiagnosed: Still Searching for Answers

In August of 2010, we got the call from our pediatrician: “Andrew tested positive for cystic fibrosis,” she told me gently, and I imagined her kind eyes filling with concern as she heard silence on the other end. That call began a roller coaster of emotions for our family and set off a chain of…