Growing up in special education, I endured what felt like endless years of bullying. I've been called names, tossed in lockers and closets, and had my head shoved in toilets. I've been kicked, tripped, spat on, and had gum slapped on my head I can't tell you how many times, only for my friend to cut it out with a pocket knife. And, yes, that hurt.

While I'm at my parent's house this weekend, I am cleaning out some files that I brought along.... including birthday party ideas, natural cleaning product recipes, Christmas, "dream house" (we won't be using that file anytime soon!) and the largest file of all- Autism. I have every single piece of paper from every single developmental pediatrician appointment, ARD meeting, therapist evaluation & notes, school notes that Sam has ever received... plus I have bulging files on contact information, biomedical interventions, therapies to try, education, stories of hope, etc...

I got a phone call a week or so ago from Kaitlyn, my oldest and Sam and Luke’s favorite sitter, “MOM…we have to take the boys to see Horton! Call Angie and see if she’ll let us take them!”
I was not at all surprised when Angie not only gave us permission, but thanked us for even asking!
So we’re planning to take the boys…soon.

I was speaking with a mother who recently learned that her son has Autism. She was angry to say the least. Doctor, after doctor, after doctor told her that he was fine and not to worry. He will grow out of it. He's a boy, boys talk late. Your cousin didn't talk until he was four and look at him now.......student council president. This same story plays out daily across the globe.