A letter from me to my daughter

Dear Ryanne,

You’re only 5 years old, and you have been to the doctors more than most children ever have to go. And I can tell you why. Me.

I have failed you, I would not listen to the doctors the first, second, or third time around. I cried in their offices–I begged them to look for something more. To give a new word to your “strange” behavior. To tell me it would get better, YOU would get better. But see that is the problem here…better implies that there is something wrong in the first place. So here it is out on the table, for you to read when you are older and so that you see how much I resent myself so that maybe you won’t resent me.

Ryanne, there is nothing wrong with you. Forget what people tell you, what you might read, what you might hear. You are perfect, you are wonderful. You are my playful, beautiful, 5 year old girl. And we can make it through your episodes, and we will cross every bridge together. I will always hold your hand through the hard times, or even just hold your finger like you let me do. My goal is to make you happy with who you are, and if that means fighting for my whole life, so be it.

I love you,



This was much much harder to write than the self-representation post. I am not sure why, but I was more nervous to portray someone who is neuro-typical with a son or daughter that is on the spectrum. I feel like it is easier to offend people when trying to portray an experience which could likely be you and an experience that could indefinitely not be you (parent of autist vs. autist)




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