Two and a half years ago, Andrew and I sat at a table with a group of doctors and therapists as they told us that based on their standardized tests, they determined that my son, Pants was cognitively disabled and he had autism. I cried..I wept actually. I wept because once again, I found myself alone. Who they described was not my Pants. I went there desperately searching for help and answers and their suggestions were not what Pants needed.
I stopped weeping and I searched for help. As I searched for help, I taught my Pants everything he needed to go into kindergarten. Last year, my help finally appeared. Pants' perfect classroom. I sat with the school's therapists, teacher and psychologist and I fought back the tears as I listened to them describe Pants almost perfectly.
A year has past and I sit wide awake with excitement thinking of our meeting in the morning.
Times can be harsh and cruel and my struggles have been great but those moments can never compare to the joys and appreciations I have been blessed to experience. I truly live in a magical place where miracles happen all the time, well when I step aside and let them happen.