Hi – I’ve been sorting through the mounds of paperwork that come hand-in-hand with raising a child with a disability, and this memory came up. Thanks for reading and/or listening!

I guess I looked like someone who could use some advice.

It’s true that I was feeling a bit over my head. I was sitting in the back of the main speaker’s hall, my lap piled with PowerPoint handouts, brochures from the exhibit room, and a thick conference program full of sessions promising to improve my son’s chances in life.

I was a newbie autism parent, facing what I was told was a rapidly closing window of early intervention, with decisions to make about therapies, education, diets, medical tests, and sensory strategies all demanding to be implemented right now.

The woman who sat down in the chair next to me—despite there being plenty of other seats nearby—clearly had something to say.

I don’t remember how the exchange started. She probably commented on my disheveled stack of notes and offered some commiseration on handling all this new information. I’m sure she asked how old my son was, and I probably said something positive about his potential. 

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