It's hard enough for a typical child to keep up with the hyper-competitive scene that is youth sports today. But if your child has autism, he or she can barely get into the game from the get go.
My kid's diagnosis was nothing short of liberating. Don't get me wrong. Hearing those four words, "Your son has autism" were accompanied by an emotional tsunami. But mostly what I felt was relief because finally, finally, my gut hunch had been confirmed.
I told you how happy I was for you. What an occasion it was. I made excuses to let you go and then I cried. Kate hadn't spoken yet. Hadn't uttered a sound.
While I don't deny there are many dark days in the world of autism, I am slowing learning to appreciate it for its asymmetry. Much like Gehry's work, which has been described as "ill-formed, misshapen and undeveloped," autism is often misrepresented and misunderstood.
In an era of profound medical advancements in drug therapies and technologies, the U.S. finds itself immersed in a controversy over the very basic iss...
I am not a scientist. I am not smart enough for that. But I am a mother. And although I am not really smart enough for that either, I do know autism from that angle. I know the rigidity and the obsessiveness and the rage over having an aide in school. I know the quiet longing that comes with being different or weird, because I see it every single day.
I stopped setting the finish line so far out of reach and instead set it for the end of each and every day.
You are in the diaper aisle. The far end where they keep the biggest diapers. The frown on your face tells me you are discouraged that they stopped at size six. Your boy can barely squeeze into them and they are useless through the night. I only recently left the diaper aisle myself.
A big leap it is not from believing in god and the devil to believing in anything at all, including that the president is a radical Christian but also a Muslim and a foreign-citizen socialist who will take your guns away. Facts don't matter; we create a fictional order in the face of randomness and then call that real, and the chasm becomes ever wider.
I am that mom, and these are strangely some of the most sacred moments of parenting. When it isn't easy -- but it's still so good. When God reveals himself to me through my boys. I think back to that mom that I judged from years ago, and I understand important things about life I didn't know then. I'm grateful for the shift in perspective.
She loves the bright sun and the way it feels on her skin. She adores the feel of the breeze on her face. She takes joy in slowly moving her hands through the sand. She breathes in the ocean air the same way I breathe in the smell of freshly-made chococlate chip cookies.
Real motherhood is not about having the child you pictured in your head or having a child who fulfills the dreams you thought you had. It is an adventure of discovery.
There is a bond between brothers that I see each day within my house. And there is a bond between a boy with a disability and his brother that is different than any other I have known.
I woke up about six months ago and realized that in my attempt to get them to those next milestones, I've missed out on the moments in the present. All of the laughter, joy, smiles, and snuggles were overshadowed by worry. All of the magic moments, gone in the blink of an eye.
At the start of every New Year, many make resolutions and most having every intention of keeping them. However, as the days and weeks pass they often are forgotten or set aside, replaced with the activities of everyday life!
Grace received this letter just days ago. Be ready, because it punches you right in the feels. Amy, a volunteer with National Service Dogs, has been following our story, and she's taken a special interest in little Grace. She understands Grace, you see, in a way, even I can't.