Profound Autism Ally

12/07/2025

12/07/2025

12/06/2025

12/06/2025

12/06/2025

Todays advocacy

12/06/2025

“You need to pick up your child by noon today due to unforeseen circumstances.”

At first, I assumed it was something simple — maybe a plumbing issue, maybe a power outage.
But that sentence was only the preface to the devastating news that followed: Luke’s ABA clinic is closing. Permanently.

In a single moment, the foundation of our week, our routines, and our support system collapsed.
Every service Luke receives — ABA, Speech, and OT — is tied to that clinic. Within hours, we were thrown into a situation no parent ever imagines: searching for new services during the holidays, a time already heavy for so many families like ours and services that are all likely to have waitlists.

What made it even harder was realizing that it wasn’t just us parents who were blindsided. The staff — the people who pour their hearts into our children, who show up day after day with patience and compassion — were caught off guard as well.
At pickup, there wasn’t a dry eye in sight. Staff members helping to pack up personal belongings. Parents trying to process what this means. Tears, hugs, and heartbreaking goodbyes.

These aren’t just providers. They are familiar faces who have walked alongside our kids for years. They’ve celebrated progress, supported setbacks, and loved our children through it all. They have been tremendous assets in every bit of growth our kids have made.

And now, many families are left scrambling — not only for services, but for stability and preventing regression.
Some of us are now trying to figure out how to keep the small sliver of employment we’ve managed to hold onto, knowing many of us don’t qualify for FMLA. The ripple effects are enormous and immediate.

Please keep our families in your thoughts and prayers as we navigate this sudden upheaval.
And please keep the staff — who are grieving the loss of their workplace, their teams, and the children they’ve grown to love — in your prayers as well.

To all the team members who have been part of Luke’s journey over the years:
Thank you.
For showing up.
For caring.
For giving your heart to our children.
Your impact will last far beyond the walls of the clinic.

12/06/2025

shut up and accept that you're defined by your weakness, olds!

12/06/2025

12/04/2025

What I wish people knew about parents of profoundly autistic children…

We’re not just tired. We’re on alert. Always.
We don’t sleep deeply. We don’t rest fully.
Even when our children are safe, our nervous systems don’t get the memo.

We scan rooms for danger before we enter.
We memorize every object that could be swallowed, shattered, or used to self-harm.
We notice screws on the floor before our feet do.

We don’t get to relax at dinner. Or at the park. Or even in our own homes.

We are always calculating…where the exits are, how loud the room is, whether the people near us are kind or curious or about to judge.

We lose track of how many times we’ve said “no” in a day.
Not because we want to but because our child’s safety depends on it.

We love fiercely. Unconditionally.
But that love exists alongside grief. Not instead of it.

We grieve the milestones that never come.
The “I love you” we’ve never heard.
The hugs that never happen.
The kind of childhood our other kids miss out on.

We have joy. Absolutely.
We celebrate the things most people take for granted.
A shared glance. A smile. A word approximation. A safe day.

But the truth is…beneath it all, we are carrying so much.
And no one sees it unless they’ve lived it.

We don’t need pity. We don’t need praise.
We just want people to understand that behind every autistic child is someone fighting, quietly, constantly, and often invisibly, to keep them safe, supported, and seen.

Caregivers matter even if they’re not the one living with autism. And often, they do too.