February 2020 is a month I'll never forget.

It wasn't because the world was about to change—although we would soon find that out. It was because we sat across a table from a team of professionals and heard the words that would forever change the direction of our family's life.

Our youngest son was diagnosed with severe autism spectrum disorder with a speech delay and developmental delay.

If I'm being honest, nothing they told us was truly new. Deep down, I already knew. I had seen the differences. I had watched him struggle. I had worried in silence. But hearing someone else say the words out loud made them real in a way I wasn't prepared for.

As they spoke, I remember experiencing what I can only describe as tunnel vision. Their voices faded in and out. I could see their mouths moving, but my brain struggled to process everything they were saying. It felt like time had stopped while the rest of the room kept moving.

One sentence cut through the haze.

"He needs significant intervention."

Then came the list.

Forty hours a week of ABA therapy.

Speech therapy.

Occupational therapy.

Physical therapy.

Supports...

Not just now.

For the rest of his life.

As a parent, those words are overwhelming. You aren't thinking about therapy schedules or insurance authorizations. You're grieving the future you imagined while trying to figure out how to build a new one.

And then, just weeks later...

The world shut down.

Searching for Help That Didn't Exist

We immediately jumped into action.

We toured clinics.

We researched every provider we could find.

We spent countless late nights reading about therapies, comparing programs, making phone calls, sitting on hold with insurance companies, trying to understand what was covered and what wasn't.

Every conversation seemed to end with another question.

Every answer led to another dead end.

The clinics we toured were overwhelming—not just emotionally, but physically. They were loud, busy, and overstimulating. I often left feeling just as exhausted as I imagined my son would have.

Then we discovered something even more discouraging.

There simply weren't clinics in our area that could provide the level of care he needed.

We worked with our local school district to enroll him in their early childhood special education program. Finally, it felt like we were moving in the right direction.

He attended half days.

Then COVID closed the schools.

Just like that, another support disappeared.

One Heartbreak After Another

A few weeks later came another phone call.

His daycare told us he couldn't come back.

He didn't nap like the other children, and they said they couldn't accommodate him anymore.

Nothing prepares you for hearing that your child isn't welcome somewhere because they're different.

The rejection was heartbreaking.

Not because of childcare.

Because it reinforced every fear you already carry as a parent of a child with special needs.

Would people always see his challenges before they saw him?

Would he always have to fight just to belong?

Making the Best of What We Had

Eventually we found an ABA provider willing to come into our home.

Since nearly every clinic had closed because of COVID, in-home services were one of the only options available.

We were grateful.

But we also quickly saw the cracks in the system.

Most of the Registered Behavior Technicians (RBTs) were brand new to the field. They wanted to help, but they had very little support. Their supervising BCBA was only present during the required supervision each week, leaving them to navigate difficult situations largely on their own.

Then came the staffing shortages.

Session after session was canceled.

Therapists came and went.

Consistency disappeared.

As parents, we watched precious months slip away knowing our son wasn't getting the social interaction, structured learning, and consistent support he desperately needed.

We worried constantly about whether he would ever develop the skills necessary to be successful in a classroom.