When most people think of a person with Autism, they think of a white male. My second child is an African American female. This is our story. From the moment my husband and I brought her home from the hospital, she was extremely sensitive to light and sound.

In moments like this, I never want us to lose sight of the things that still matter. The world would lead us to believe that our lives don’t matter, but they still do. We absolutely must continue to pursue our goals, dreams, and passions.

Like you, the last four months of my life have been completely turned upside down. I was used to waking up in the morning, my husband and I getting our infant ready for daycare, and then all of us quickly leaving the house. After a long day, we would return home, perform our evening routines and then spend some time together before we do it all over again the next day. Those days were long but it was our routine and I was used to the rapid pace of our life.

March was when everything started to look different.

I was always sort of hiding how everyone in my family didn’t get along. How every gathering turned into an argument until we stopped gathering altogether. How jealousy and resentment ran rampant amongst the different age groups. It wasn’t until I was thirteen and in high school that I realized more families had similar issues to mine than I thought.

As I lay on the floor crying, my only thought was “What the hell are you doing?”

I probably shouldn’t have been on the floor. It’s hard and it makes your ribs hurt if you lay there too long. No one should spend any serious time on the floor without sex or yoga (or both) involved. Regardless, that was where I found myself. My mind managed to convince me that not only did I deserve to be on the floor, I should stay there for half an hour.