My Son Is The Reason I Give
My journey into giving began soon after my son was born. When he was 18 months old, I noticed that he wasn’t reaching all of his developmental milestones. Instead of playing with his toy truck, he seemed more interested in how it was built. He would often take his Legos and line them up in a straight line by his door, I use to just say he was setting a trap at his door.
When it became clear that my son was developmentally challenged, I became determined to give him the best life he could possibly have. He’s now seven years old, autistic, and non-verbal. I’ve dubbed him my gentle giant. My daughter, a sassy five-year-old who thinks she’s going on sixteen, suffers from anxiety.
They are my bundles of joy, pure innocence untainted by our harsh world.
Before my children were born, I didn’t know how much resolve I had inside me. My son was diagnosed with autism while I was pregnant with my daughter. At the time, I worked as a receptionist in a doctor’s office. At night, I started to read voraciously about autism.
I soon had to make a choice: should I continue working or become a stay-at-home mother and be a part of my son’s therapy sessions? I knew that leaving the workforce would be hard on my family and put all the financial expenses on my husband. But I felt a strong need to be there for my son. I needed to grasp this diagnosis that was starting to take hold of my entire life.
A few years later, when both of my children were attending full day school, I decided to reenter the workforce — but this time, in education. I applied and landed a job as teacher’s assistant at a special needs preschool in the South Bronx. I decided to spend my workdays with children that reminded me of my own. I also decided to go back to school.
It’s not the most lucrative job in the world, but it allows me to give other children the opportunities that I’m trying to give my son and daughter.
Both my children received early intervention services to help with their delays. They both were blessed with therapists who dedicated all their time to them. At my school and elsewhere, I have heard countless stories about children who lost their services in the public school system because of staff shortages. I’ve heard of home therapists who cut sessions short because they include time looking for parking. I’ve heard about therapy agencies that lie about trying and failing to get in contact with parents. They just see our children as names on papers and shuffle them on their desks. So I decided to give back the same time and dedication my children were lucky enough to receive to others.
I cannot fund new schools like Oprah, or donate my own money to the causes I care most deeply about. I am a working mom who thinks carefully about how to spend her family’s paychecks. However, I can still do a lot. I can give each child in class a hug each morning and make them smile while turning Play-Doh into letters. And as soon as my children outgrow their clothes, I donate them to the school. You name it, I take it: sneakers, sandals, coats, shirts, pants and shorts. I never throw anything away, knowing another child may be in need.
I often wonder if I am doing enough financially, only working part-time and leaving my husband to carry the family. I tried for some time to work a few extra hours at work. Although the income is beneficial, those hours away from my children weighed on me. I wanted to be home the same way I was there for my son’s therapy services. When someone spills milk and cannot stop crying (since my kids are still learning how to self-regulate), I am there to hold their hand and show them it will be OK.
Since my gentle giant was just a sweet pea, I have also done autism fundraising walks with family and friends. Although I may not be able to give a lot, I always believe if everyone could just give a small amount together it will add up.
I enjoy participating in the yearly walks because you meet so many families going through the same thing. Sometimes, just hearing someone else’s story gives you hope. Other times, you can be an empathetic ear for someone else to vent. Last year, I was a group leader at the yearly Autism Speaks walk. I didn’t think I would raise more than a hundred dollars. But I soon learned that one kind heart recognizes another. Together with friends, family, coworkers, and my son’s educators (both past and present), we raised almost three thousand dollars. This accomplishment showed me that true kindness in humanity still lives on.
When I look in the mirror today, I see a woman working each day with lovable children — both her own and others — who have a few extra hurdles to overcome in life. But I know that if we give these kids our all, they will be the warmth in our tomorrow.
