After my son Jake was born for Christmas he received a book called The Dangerous Book for Boys. I loved it. I knew he was going to be fearless, brave, kind and curious. Then a couple years later he was diagnosed with autism. My heart was broken. Shattered into pieces. 1/

From the moment I tried to seek help to navigate these new waters, I was inundated with shitty advice telling me I had to bury my idea of the son I thought I had. That I had a new son. One I had to learn how to live and take care of him. I even got that stupid Holland poem. 2/

No offense Holland. Your tulips are beautiful but if to me my kid is the most perfect moonlight on a Caribbean beach the tulips just won’t do. So I looked at him. And wondered. And thought. And cried. Then one day I realized Jake was indeed fearless, brave, kind and curious. 3/

The issue was me and how I had been defining those words. It hasn’t been easy. Still isn’t sometimes. There are days I cry. But I would take Jake and the epilepsy and the lawsuits against NYC and the crazy therapy schedules over 99% of the neurotypical kids out there. 4/

Cause he’s perfectly Jake. Fearless, brave, kind and curious as only Jake can be. As you go thru this holiday season of shopping for your kids, sifting thru toys not for them, and trying to figure out what they‘d like, being sad, maybe even depressed remember you‘re not alone. 5/

I’ve been there. I will be there again. Plenty of us on here have been there. And when that sadness hits you out of the blue, when you aren’t prepared, I want you to remember the dream did not die. Your kid is yours and they are perfect. In who they are. Always will be. 6/The End