I remember the day we received the official diagnosis for our second child. It hit like a wave—relief, grief, and a flood of questions all at once. Relief because we finally had a name for what we’d been seeing. Grief because, suddenly, the future we had imagined looked different. Not worse—just unknown.
It was after that diagnosis that we began to look at things differently with our oldest. We had always known something was unique about him—his behaviors, his sensitivities, the way he experienced the world. But we hadn’t fully put the pieces together until later. He was observed, assessed, and eventually diagnosed too.
And then, not long after, our youngest began to show signs as well.
Three sons.
Three beautiful minds.
Three journeys that reshaped everything we thought we knew about parenting, family, and love.
There were nights—quiet, heavy nights—when my wife and I would sit side by side, completely drained. No words. Just trying to process how we were going to make it all work: the therapies, the meltdowns, the finances, the uncertainty.
We’ve faced stares in public, lost friendships, and had to learn how to advocate fiercely in rooms where people didn’t understand.
And still—we wouldn’t change a thing about who our boys are.
They’ve taught us more about unconditional love, resilience, and human connection than any book or expert ever could.
It’s not just about managing behaviors or speech delays. It’s about:
• Avoiding busy restaurants because of sensory overload.
• Losing friends because they “don’t know how to act around your kid.”
• Watching your child get left out—and hearing them ask why.
• Figuring out how to be a parent, a therapist, an advocate, and a full-time scheduler all in one.
Many families face these challenges without any real support. And yet, they still fight. Every single day. For their kids. For their future. For a little understanding.
They don’t want pity.
They don’t need people to fix their children.
They want empathy. Inclusion. Hope.
They want schools, businesses, and community spaces that get it.
They want to be invited in—not pushed to the side.
They want their child to be seen not for what they struggle with, but for who they truly are.
If you’ve never walked in these shoes, we’re not asking you to know it all—we’re just asking you to care enough to learn.
• Offer flexibility for parents juggling therapy appointments and meltdowns.
• Design programs and public spaces with sensory needs in mind.
• Be patient. Be kind. Ask questions instead of making assumptions.
Text them. Call them. Show up. Drop off coffee or send a message that says...“You’re doing amazing.”
...Trust me, it goes a long way.
Heart in the Spectrum was born from this exact place—from the ache of trying to navigate this world alone, and from the belief that it doesn’t have to be this way.
Our mission is to support families, build a strong community, and create a new standard for what inclusion looks like—from everyday life to long-term care and employment opportunities.
We are striving to create an implementation model that any City or County can easily integrate in to its existing plan or add to it's future plan.
If this touched you—even a little—please consider following our journey, sharing this post, donate and support our mission, or simply start a conversation about neurodiversity in your circle. Because every family going through this, deserves to be seen. And every innocent child, experiencing the world differently, deserves a chance to thrive in a world that welcomes them.
Let’s build that world together.
#HeartInTheSpectrum #NeurodiversityMatters #AutismAwareness #Inclusion #FamilyFirst #ParentingOnTheSpectrum
Heart in the Spectrum is recognized as a Tax Exempt Non-Profit under Internal Revenue Code (IRC) Section 501(c)(3). Registered with the IRS under EIN 98-7654321