Global Developmental Delays to Intellectual Disability

“I meant to tell you it’s not Global Delay anymore. It’s now a diagnosis of Intellectual Disability,” I said to the nurse as she was presenting her portion of the IEP (Individualized Education Plan) for my son. She quickly questioned, “who gave you that diagnosis?” To which I replied, “he just had some testing done through developmental at (the hospital), and he was given that when they reevaluated his autism diagnosis.” She looked at me through the zoom meeting asking,

Grief in my Gratitude: My Son is Turning Five

Five years ago,  with only a few hours of labor, my son came into this world. He was bigger than his sister, quieter than his sister, and in that brief perfect moment that he entered this world, our family was complete. On his first birthday, we had a big party, just like we had done for his sister. I jokingly would say it was to celebrate us as parents making it a year because, after all, “these kids will never

Mountains: The Journey for our Loved Ones and Ourselves

I remember when we started early intervention. The thought behind it is that with a bit of intervention, my child would catch up to his peers. The reality is, at the time, I didn’t know that my view, and of the countless other experts, of the situation, was completely wrong. “Let’s get him the help he needs to catch up,” they would say. Of course, we wanted that! I mean, look at his sister so happy and healthy, in no

Anticipatory Grief: Sibling Perspective

Community Submission by: Ameera Rey One minute you are laying in bed. Eyes closed. Trying to go to sleep. Then you have an out-of-body experience. You are in the hospital. A doctor has just walked in and told you the person you love so much is dead. You are sobbing. So extremely angry. Angry you couldn’t save him. Angry you couldn’t protect him. Angry his body was riddled with a disease that stole his life. You’re so angry that you

Performance Masquerading as Advice Helps No One

“He should have access to his voice at all times,” she wrote.  Out of context, it would be hard to know what to make of a statement like this, but I think most of us would be inclined to think it is correct, or good advice, or at least true as an aspiration. Unfortunately, in this case, it was more like a weapon. I should have expected it. After all, the internet seems to spawn a whole population of individuals

A Testimony of Strength

For a year and a half, I worked out in the room attached to our playroom. There is a sliding glass door that leads into a mostly glass room which looks out into the backyard. This also means anyone who is in the playroom can see me peddling away on the Peloton. Over the last year that everyone has been home, there are days my husband would say, “take a ride,” and if you need exercise as I do, many

Fighting the Minivan

When we first got married and were looking for our first house, I told my husband I only wanted to live in a downtown area. I love the ability to walk to the train station, go to shops, walk to dinner, basically enjoy where I live. For our first and second homes, this was the case. But, after getting our son’s diagnosis (insert link to diagnosis story), we realized that he might not just grow into our home. Life is

Missing Puzzle Pieces

My son is like a puzzle. One with no directions, no picture, and guess what, it’s missing a piece – or in his case 3 pieces. Sure, we know where the missing pieces are, or should I say aren’t, but it impacts other puzzle elements as well. There are days I look at my son, and I wonder, does he know he has an itch? Do you ever have an itch and think about it? I do, now, at least.

Triggering: Why is your child hurting you?

“What did you do?” It is often asked in one form or another when people find out my son bites, kicks, and hurts, it most cases, me. See, people assume that I must have upset my son. After all, why would he hurt me? But the reality is, I am fortunate because I realized I was doing nothing wrong. Let me go into my exact thought process. At first, I thought it was my fault. That my son was trying

Voice for the Voiceless

We left the house exactly as scheduled, which in itself was a miracle, arriving as requested 30 minutes prior for check-in at the hospital. Everything was going smoothly thanks to pre-check-in via the phone, and we were sitting in the radiology waiting room a full 10 minutes early. Our appointment was for 8:00 am, and I thought, man, we might be out of here by 9 o’clock. Before I get too deep into this story, let me tell you a