I like to step into each new year with a heart full of gratitude for everything that brought me to this moment—and with genuine eagerness for what is still unfolding. Not because the road behind us has been easy, but because it has shaped me in ways I never could have imagined.
As I reflect, I see years of fearless advocacy, countless hard conversations, and a deep love that required me to grow far beyond the version of myself I once knew. Every year adds another layer of perspective. Every season teaches me something new about patience, resilience, and trust.
I truly believe there is a warrior inside every parent. That warrior doesn’t always show up loudly or dramatically. Sometimes it appears quietly, in exam rooms, school meetings, or long nights filled with worry. We don’t choose the moment it awakens—but we always recognize when it does.
For me, that moment came when my son Skyler was unofficially diagnosed with autism at just two years old. I remember the fear vividly. The air felt heavy. My mind raced with questions about what his life—and ours—would look like. I was desperate for reassurance, for a plan, or even just a hopeful word to hold onto.
Instead, I was met with a list of limitations. Predictions about milestones he might never reach. Assumptions about what he would never be able to do because of a label placed on him before he even had the chance to show the world who he was.
That drive home changed me.
From that moment on, I understood that my motherhood would not follow the path I once imagined—and that was okay. Like Skyler, I would learn to navigate the world with a different set of tools. I would have to let go of expectations rooted in comparison and replace them with curiosity, patience, and unwavering belief.
I didn’t know what the future held then—and if I’m honest, I still don’t. But I’ve learned something invaluable over the past 22 years: worrying endlessly about what may or may not happen steals precious energy from the child standing right in front of you.
Today, Skyler is a 22-year-old adult with nonverbal, profound autism. Watching him confidently spell answers, express preferences, and communicate his wants reminds me that growth doesn’t always look the way we expect—but it is still growth. And it is always worth celebrating.
To parents who are new to this journey: please know this—there is no benefit in replaying the past or panicking about a distant future that hasn’t arrived yet. Autism does not unfold on a rigid timeline, and neither does joy, progress, or connection. Focus on today. On the small victories. On the love exchanged in quiet moments that others might overlook.
The future will come soon enough. When it does, you’ll meet it with more strength than you realize—because you are already becoming the parent your child needs.
As I step into 2026, I do so with gratitude for every lesson, every challenge, and every unexpected triumph. I remain committed to helping Skyler—and the world—recognize that limits placed on human potential are often misplaced. We are all capable of far more than we are told.
And sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is simply be present… right here, right now.
