You are a miracle. Everything about you is a miracle. Do you realize how truly special you are? Let’s take a moment to explore this. Think about all the complexities it takes for anyone to exist: You breathe without thinking. Your blood flows without thinking. Your heart pumps without thinking. Your body performs thousands of tasks every day, working in harmony—without you even being aware of it.
Now let’s go deeper, more personal. You are one of the greatest miracles in my life. A few years before you were conceived, multiple doctors told me I would never be able to have children due to my back injuries. And if by some miracle I did conceive, I would never carry a baby to full term. Those deeply inaccurate words are still etched in my soul, but they feel very different now than when they were first spoken. Like many hurtful things said to me in the past, those words became a call to action.
No, I didn’t set out to prove the doctors wrong. But when I heard your spirit ask me from the other side, “When do I get to come and join the family, Mommy?”—how could I believe the doctors knew more than Spirit? If you weren’t meant to be here, you wouldn’t have been permitted to ask to come. Like so many other limiting words I’ve heard, those became my quiet resolve—my moment to pray, surrender, and ask for the Divine Will to be done. And then, we watched as you came into our lives.
When you were young, you faced many challenges that made daily life difficult. Several doctors told me—when you were just 5, 6, or 7—that you would always struggle, that you wouldn’t be able to regulate your emotions, or even hold a part-time job. I chose not to believe them. Instead, I chose to learn as much as I could to help you become whatever you were meant to be. I knew without a doubt that you had a purpose, just like everyone else. I believed your challenges held silver linings—and that the world would be blessed by your presence.
What I didn’t realize was how much of a blessing you would be to me.
You were the first person in my life who not only allowed me to love them fully but who loved me back—with hugs, cuddles, laughter, and joy. Yes, there were tears, moments of anger, and turbulent emotions brought on by Autism. But I believe the deep love we shared helped soften those times, so they now feel like brief glimpses of struggle amidst a much greater story of joy and connection.
We had so many moments of silliness, wonder, and the kind of happiness only childhood can bring. I thank you—and the Creator—for that. Through you, I was able to share countless moments with my inner child that I missed out on during my own youth. We said “I love you” dozens of times a day. We hugged. And we created an environment where peace could return quickly after emotional storms.
If someone had looked in from the outside during one of those difficult moments, they might not have understood how we could go from visible distress—yelling, crying, anger—to the soft, snuggly “cuddle bundle” we often became just minutes later. But that’s exactly what happened. And it was a miracle in itself.
You did that. You helped us both heal, even though it wasn’t intentional on your part. After each storm passed, hugging you, helping you calm down, and reminding you that your actions weren’t truly you—they were just your condition in that moment—helped us both grow.
What a miracle you are.
Now, 22 years later, you are an extraordinary person. I hope one day you fully realize how miraculous you truly are. You not only learned to manage your emotions most of the time (hey, we all have our moments), but you radiate happiness—and that joy touches everyone around you.
Over the years, on days when I’ve struggled to hold onto happiness or find my way back to it, I’ve often looked at the joy you find in life. In those moments, I’m reminded that true happiness lives in the simplest things. For that, I thank you. Others have seen your light too—and they’ve shared with me how you’ve lifted their spirits by just being yourself.
I believe it’s time you knew the impact you have.
And just to honor the practical side of the miracle you are: You have a permanent job. You’re learning to cook more and better. You take care of yourself mostly, and you know how to clean and manage your space. These are all incredible achievements—especially for someone with Autism.
I know I tell you this often, but I want to say it here too: I am so deeply proud of the beautiful person you are. I look forward to continuing our journey together as the miracle that you are continues to unfold.
Thank you for being here and sharing this path with me.
Thank you for healing yourself, for healing me, and for helping others along the way—just by being you.
I am so honored to be your mother. Words can’t fully express it.
This writing is dedicated to my beautiful, loving daughter, Ashley.
