An introduction long overdue

Where do I begin? 

I really don’t know

But I will try 

I will do this as best I can without hurting myself or hurting or insulting the parts of me that have tried to keep me from the hurt from my past and the hurt that they fear is lurking and waiting to prey on me and on them. 

You see, I am indeed a rare puzzle of mystery and of untold and hidden secrets. Secrets that I myself do not even fully know, however, there are parts of me that do know, and they are and have been keeping them locked and hidden away from me for years, decades in fact. 

These parts mean well and really do have my best intentions for my well being and mental stability, yet these well meaning parts are tired and they are ready to meet me and I feel that I am finally ready to meet them as well ... 

This is an introduction long overdue and I feel that “We” are all ready to come to a meeting of my mind kind of a moment. 

Let’s first talk about those parts of me that I’ve already met and what role in my life that they’ve assigned themselves to. 

“The Keeper” is a beautiful little girl about the age of six or seven. She has long blonde hair, wears a white frilly nightgown and carries and holds on tightly to a very loved teddy bear. She also carries all of my deepest secrets that are hidden and she has since I was about the age of two. She takes this role extremely serious and I feel her with me the most. She means me no harm, in fact, she keeps me from harm by keeping these secrets from me and has for over 40 years. She tells me that I am not allowed to go down that trail as of yet and she will stop me dead in my tracks if I try to run on past her ... “this is not your time to run towards the unknown path ... there are things up ahead on this trail that you are not ready for.”

I have to make peace with what she says for right now, I do try because I trust “The keeper.” She and I have met a few times and she’s sweet, loving, and she worries a great deal for me, she also cares a great deal for my other “parts” too. 

There is another “part of me” that I refer to as “The Manager.” She is quite the personality and tries to maintain all order concerning me and “my parts.”

“The Manager” has the toughest role, she reminds me of this, a lot. Her job is to keep all of my “parts” in line and she likes to run a tight ship within my psyche. To her, this role is extremely daunting yet she strives for excellence and thrives on perfection. If she gets pushback from another “part” she has no qualms about reminding them of her title and asserting her role as such. She can be quite intimidating to all of “us.” When she takes over, “we” all know that she has “switched” in. 

Then there is one that I refer to as “Autopilot.”

I’m not ready to talk about her yet ... we know of each other but have yet to be formerly and properly introduced, and there is good reason for that. We’ll just move on from her, for now. 

I really do adore and have beautiful and loving feelings of safety and of light for “The Medium.”

She is extraordinary and her gifts are so rare and magical and I really do love when she decides to “switch” in. She is simply the most beautiful energy and I’m blessed to have her be a “part” of me. She brings messages of hope and peace from multiple energy planes. She has given me the most amazing gifts that I have been able to gift on to others. I thank her every day and I really do believe that she’s also grateful for our life together. 

“The Feeler” feels all and has from the very first time “we” felt any kind of hurt or trauma from any of the catastrophic moments that we’ve gone through in our past 40 years. She is rather emotional and the others find her to be the weakest of us .... oh but she is mighty strong and fierce for what she’s had to feel over the years. I admire her strength and longevity. She is one of the toughest “parts” of us. 

“The Motivator” works tirelessly to push all of us to do things when we are tired and feeling sad from being on call and overworked from this unrelenting job of trying to keep us all together and in line. Sometimes she needs to “switch” off for weeks and months at a time to recharge so that she can rally us all back to being productive, and that is exhausting and I appreciate all of her efforts, I try to express that to her as much as I can, I really do hope that she knows that. 

“The Organizer” feels under appreciated the most. She hates that “we” tend to slack off as she thinks that “we” could all be doing SO much more. Her anxiety can reach extreme highs when she doesn’t see things going exactly her way. She does get snippy and tends to verbally lash out ... a lot. She really is trying to work on that though. “We” know that. 

“The Cleaner” does exactly that, she cleans up physical as well as emotional messes. She does not particularly like her role, but she knows that someone has to do it, and she knows that she is damn good at it. She tends to get easily bothered by some of the bigger messes, but all said and done, she gets it clean. 

Those are just a few of “my parts” 

Well, the ones I’ve met

I realize that there are more 

I’m ready for the big meeting 

It will happen 

When “we” are all ready 

I lived my own Fight Club

It’s called a change over, the movie goes on and nobody in the audience has any idea”  - Fight Club

I had no idea that I had been sleeping for as long as I was.  I had been sleep walking and talking for years and I hadn't a clue. 

It startled me and I was scared, it seemed I was now awake, but was all of that a dream, did that all really happen? I woke up trying to figure out if I were dreaming, if any of it was real. I was looking at things through different eyes, still my eyes, but the lens had changed and I could clearly see what was going on. 

I started pacing back and forth in my oldest daughter's bedroom, my chest tightened and my heart was pounding so hard that I could actually hear it in my ears, so fast as if it were ready to jump out of my chest and explode right in front of me. I continued pacing, but my pace had picked up and I was speeding faster than I'd like to have been. 

I was awake! Oh my God! I was awake! 

It hit me fast and hard and it hurt so bad. I had the phone in my hand and I knew I had to call for help. I dialed the number, I can't remember how, but I was awake and I knew who to call.

The voice on the other end explained that my therapist was busy, but I was able to articulately explain that I needed to speak with my therapist immediately. The women told me to hang up the phone and that my therapist would call me right back. I hung up...the phone rang. 

I had sprinted out of my oldest daughter's bedroom and across the hall into my youngest daughter's bedroom. I managed to walk inside her closet which had no doors and I grabbed onto the wood trim and dug into it, I could feel pieces of the wood trim underneath my fingernails as I held on so tight with that one hand while the other hand held the phone up to my ear. I could hear my therapists voice, she was with me in the closet on the phone and I was hanging on, fingers digging into the wood, heart ready to beat out of my chest.

 I was hanging on to the phone with my therapist as my body started shaking uncontrollably. It felt as though my whole body was having a seizure. My legs convulsed as I heard my therapist on the phone telling me to tap my feet, I dug in to the wood and it felt as if I was jolted by lightning..."what's happening?" I yelled into the phone.

"You're having a panic attack" she answered. 

I've had many panic attacks, this one was not like any other I’ve ever experienced. It was by far the worst one I've ever had. Panic attacks hurt.  Many who've suffered from panic attacks, have not had heart attacks, but the pain and fear of having one, I've been told is quite similar. 

My therapist began telling me that the year was 2016, that I was talking to her on the phone, she kept asking me if I could feel my feet and the floor below me, she asked me what colors I could see in my daughter's bedroom. She asked, "do you see the color pink?"

"Yes, pink, the walls are pink." I spoke. 

"Can you tap your feet...tap, tap, tap, tap?" She asked. 

I tapped my feet on the floor, they were numb and tingly, but I could at least feel them, the same numbness was in my fingers and hands too. I felt the wave of electricity and shock slowly exit different parts of my body, one appendage at a time, as Tracy kept asking me to find different colors in my daughter's room.

We were then on to the color orange, I saw a little backpack with bright orange on the front, and began to describe it to her from inside the closet. She asked me about this backpack and I began to answer her, I knew when this backpack was used, I knew I was in the closet, I knew I was on the phone with my therapist and I knew that I was finally awake. 

Dates, times, feelings, moments in time all came into my head at once. I had been asleep for 7 years, 11 months, and 8 days. Oh my God, I was scared and shaking, and I was awake.

I tried to grasp the idea of the two different realities and how this could possibly have happened, and well, you can't fully grasp it. I still don't fully understand what the Hell happened. All I know is that I'm fully awake and I now know what put me in such a long slumber and made me so very sick. The images and memories and moments of time were triggered and unlocked and I could feel, see, hear, taste, and smell every detail, again. 

I was reliving my traumas 

Trauma affects people in many different ways. It can make you emotionally, mentally, and yes, even physically ill. 

My traumas rendered me disabled and incapacitated. 

There is an official name, a diagnosis and I would soon hear the medical term...conversion disorder and dissociative disorder...I was me, but I wasn’t. It reminds me of the movie Fight Club and the recent movie Split. I split and every day I was in fight or flight. It happens every time a new trauma enters my world. I have childhood trauma as well as multiple traumas throughout my 40 years on this earth. I have complex post traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD)

When you are triggered and are trying to understand how you can be stuck in limbo between two different realities, well it's unreal. 

It’s hard to get a handle on your own reality after you come to realize that a change over happened. 

This was reality, this was real, and it was really happening, and it really happened to me. My original reality was in a head on collision with my current reality, and the crash had woken me up startled and terrified me. 

How long DID this change over take place?  

7 years, 11 months, and 8 days?

I walked around my house for days with new eyes, they weren't really new, they were my eyes, the filtered haze of the alternate eyes were no longer here.

I had to understand how to mesh these two realities into one reality. I kept blinking hoping the lenses would correct itself and I could stop this rude awakening. 

I questioned everything, still do, how could I not? When faced with the two different realities, of course the safer one was more appealing, but I knew it wasn't real, I needed to fully come back and put the two in check and I knew at this point that there was so much important work to be done to make this happen. 

The next few days and weeks were extremely hard. Nightmares and panic attacks filled my days and nights and fear, sadness, and depression consumed me. 

I had done something that I NEVER thought that I would do...I asked for help, I cried for it, I begged for someone to help me! Because I knew that I needed help.

"Who in their right mind, would not have known this?" and then feeling terrified with the realization that I in fact had NOT been in my right mind for a long time.

I remembered the last horrific trauma from 2008 and it came crashing through my brain and body like a huge tidal wave. 

What the hell happened to me? 

My brain created an alternate reality to protect me from what I could not mentally, emotionally, and physically handle on my own. 

The year was 2016 and I had gone 7 years, 11 months, and 8 days believing I was ok, just like my audience, I had no idea that a change over had taken place.

 When trauma occurs and it is severe, it can and DID make a person physically, emotionally, and mentally ill. 

The multiple traumas throughout my lifetime caused me to have extreme mental stress, a nervous breakdown, some would say that I had lost my mind. I would later learn that the correct terms are conversion disorder and dissociative disorder. 

I am working hard on trying to process this and I still have moments where I'm pacing, hyperventilating, and saying "that happened...Oh my god, that happened!" sounds, smells, sights, feelings have all come back to me, I know dates, days, times, and it is a constant slide show of the traumatic events that plays over and over in my mind, and there is no pause button, I'm in agony as it continues to play on repeat.

I'm left with pieces of myself. Pieces of the me before and after the trauma and those pieces are banged up, bent, and they don't quite fit right, no matter how hard I try to piece them together. This is a damaged puzzle and I'm left with all the worn out pieces.

I was triggered in February of 2016

I remember now. This is just the beginning of my story, I’m finally awake! 

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What it’s like when I lose myself

I go away for a little bit 

Not sure how long as each time is different 

I don’t always know that I’m lost and neither do you 

A change in hair color, attitude, and I see the world through a whole new view 

It’s me, but it’s not. It’s another version of me

Lost in my own head

Not wanting to confront what hurts me 

And makes my insides feel dead

When I’m lost like this and another “me” takes 

Over to help me cope and deal

That’s when I really have trouble deciphering 

What is actually real 

I’m not sure how many times I’ve been lost

I know that it is more than I can count 

I don’t always know I’m gone as it always 

Depends on how severe the bout

It feels like being on autopilot without

Ever learning how to fly 

Sit back, relax and try to enjoy the ride

So hard to do when you’re so lost inside

My brain doesn’t do this to hurt or confuse me

It protects me and hides me away 

From the traumas and demons that 

Haunt me every single day

Over the years I have learned what it’s like to

Lose myself and how I find my way back 

Sometimes it’s quick, while other

Times I’m so lost and so very sick

I’m not like most people, I know that now and 

Am completely aware; until stress, a trigger, a 

Traumatic event, and then I’m gone again

Struggling for my own air

My illness is real and so am I

I’m not scary or vindictive, I love more than most

I lose myself and go into hiding sometimes 

While another “me” plays host

How Cinderella made my autistic daughter feel like a princess

Birthdays are supposed to be fun and exciting for little kids, I know my six year old, Anna is already planning her next Birthday party and theme the night after her 6th party ended...that excited.

Birthdays were always so exciting and fun for me too, so much so that I would have my girls parties planned and ready to decorate months before the party.

That changed for me a month before my youngest daughter, Zoey turned 2 years old. The month before she turned 2 years old, Zoey was diagnosed with severe nonverbal autism, global developmental delay, dyspraxia of speech, and would soon be diagnosed with extreme ADHD

I tried to pull myself together enough to plan her birthday party, and do it just like I had done her 1st birthday party, how I had done 6 of her older sister's birthday parties. Her 2nd Birthday didn't go as I had planned and I would realize that none of her birthdays would go as planned again. I tried, each year I tried. 

Her 3rd birthday was too loud and she was on sensory overload, she didn't know how to blow out her candles, and we didn't sing Happy Birthday because she started to cover her ears from the noise, I took some flack for not singing the Happy Birthday song from some family, but I did what was best for my child and will continue to always do so.

Her 4th Birthday was a beautiful sunny day and I invited just small a group of family and friends and I did an ice cream social. Ice cream is her favorite and I thought why not build your own sundaes.

She saw everyone gathered around and immediately came over to me to escape the small crowd, I knew it was too much, she wasn't comfortable. She motioned for her and I to go inside, and I granted her that, after all it was her day. While our friends and family still gathered outside eating cake and ice cream sundaes, Zoey and I played with some of the very cool sensory toys that she had gotten as gifts from her friends and family.

Being social is very difficult for Zoey, if we have company she usually retreats to her sensory room for a "break" and I respect her wishes every time.

I had no idea what I was going to do this year for her 5th birthday. I know that 5 is a milestone birthday and with school and therapies she had come along way from years past. 

I noticed she was listening to the original Cinderella cartoon songs on her tablet and she would sing along with Cinderella to the song "Sweet Nightingale" and to see her sing it was beautiful, and soon she started watching the cartoon and she never went to shut the TV off, which she usually does, she actually was enjoying it and captivated by it. It made my heart happy to see her enjoy something, Zoey liked Cinderella.

I did some research and I found a company that does Princess Parties. Precious Parties By Kayla. I got in contact with Kayla and I asked if she would come visit Zoey on her Birthday, she was so thrilled to be a part of Zoey's special day and so we booked her. Cinderella was coming to Zoey's 5th Birthday.

Again, I invited just immediate family and close friends and as our guests arrived Zoey took their presents from them and opened them right away, I agree, who really wants to sit around and watch you open presents and be the center of attention. Everyone else thought it was great too.

Cinderella soon arrived not long after our guests and all the other children squealed with excitement while Cinderella sat down on our floor and gathered the children around her to show her what she had brought them. A treasure chest full of trinkets and fairy wings, and then she grabbed out a Cinderella book, looked right at Zoey and pointed to Cinderella on the cover and then at herself and Zoey said "Cerella." 

Zoey knew that Cinderella was here at our house. It was overwhelming for her and she took many breaks. Cinderella did face painting on all the other kids while Zoey sat on the couch having me give her deep compression (squeezes) on her legs. My husband came over to us and he said "Cinderella is here for you baby girl." Zoey kept taking my hands to do deep compression on her legs, as I looked up at my husband and said "we tried, we tried."

Zoey was definitely intrigued by this beautiful Cinderella at our house and she actually went up and approached her 3 times. I was moved and close to tears, because no matter what Cinderella was doing, face painting a child, answering a question, whatever it was she was doing she stopped all 3 times Zoey approached her, and she treated her like the special little princess that she is, and that meant everything to me.

We brought out the cake and we sang Happy Birthday to Zoey this year, and this is the first year that Zoey blew out her candles. Cinderella cut her cake and then took pictures, signed autographs and then said her goodbyes, and off she left on her way back to Prince Charming.

Thank you Cinderella for making THIS birthday special for my special girl, and it went exactly how I had planned.

My Daughter is Different and so am I

My child is amazing, truly freaking amazing. She is everything that I want to be. 

When I'm tired and I think that there is just not one more day that I can possibly push through, I look at her progress and I push myself to push on through, on days when I feel like I can't even get out of my own bed. Zoey pulls mentally pulls me out, that's what my depression does to me. I am a mom that struggles with illnesses of my; major depressive disorder, anxiety, and panic disorder, complex ptsd, and Fibromyalgia 

3 years ago on a day in August, my husband and I drove 2 hours away to have a specialist confirm what we had already suspected...autism had chosen our child.

Getting any kind of diagnosis is a shock, nothing prepares you for it, and if you think you are prepared, well that preparation crumbles in the wake of a specialist looking at you and telling you that there's something wrong. 

When it comes to your child, the last thing you want to hear is that there is something wrong, you don't want to be handed pamphlets and told to find a support group. 

Even after they looked up and asked us, "do you understand what we just went over with you?" 

We shook our heads yes, obviously we were in shock because we didn't understand what we were in for 

We were exited out and then shown where to get onto an elevator. I looked up at my husband who was holding onto our almost 2 year old and I asked him 

"what do we do, what happens now?"

"It Changes Nothing, she's still our happy child."

I tried to accept that and believe him as he said it to me, but it did change everything for me! 

I stayed up every night, researching, blaming myself, even blaming my own illnesses, what had I done wrong. So I cried, sobbed, grieved, I got angry, and I spiraled into another bout of major depression, one of many in my life. 

These emotions of sadness, fear, and anger, well they lasted for more than over a year for me, and on the days that I had thought I had settled up with those emotions, they came back looking for more from me. A vicious emotional cycle of tug of war that I was really tired of fighting, and I realized that I needed help and so I started seeing a therapist  and soon I stopped fighting those emotions and I released them, I stopped blaming autism for choosing my child and I stopped the love hate relationship that I unknowingly had with autism. 

I realized I was discriminating autism, not my child, but autism. I was treating autism poorly and making autism into something scary and wrong...why, because autism is different, we are all different. 

Yes, different can be scary and we can be afraid of the unknown, but everything and everyone deserves a chance to show you just how beautiful different can be. I tell my children that just because someone or something is different, "different isn't bad."

 Zoey's autism saved my life! I know it sounds silly and like I'm trying to kiss autisms ass for "likes" but it's true...autism saved MY life. 

If not for Zoey's autism I never would have woken up and embraced my own illnesses and I wouldn't be the mom I am today, not just for my kids, but as a person. I became Zoey's voice when she had none, her advocate when needed...always her mommy that loves her. 

In being Zoey's voice, I found my own voice, in helping to fight for Zoey's needs, I learned to fight for my own needs. Getting Zoey's autism diagnosis helped me understand my own diagnoses and something inside me woke up and I realized autism doesn't discriminate and that no one should discriminate and that in talking and sharing, maybe we can end the stigma surrounding "differences."

Julia from Sesame Street is my child

There are many sayings and phrases that float around the autism community

"If you've met one person with autism - you've met one person with autism"

"No one person on the Spectrum is the same, just as no 2 snowflakes are the same."

Unique, Special, Different 

 these words have been used to explain my child many times. I'm alright with that. After all, those are some amazing adjectives to describe a person and my child is pretty amazing. 

Most of us can relate to or see ourselves and our "quirks" as characters on film or television. We can relate to these characters and we can empathize, laugh, find humor, joy, and maybe even sadness with these characters that remind us how similar we really are. 

With an autistic person, I can see that as being challenging. The Spectrum is so wide and vastly unique, just as is the person on the Spectrum itself. 

Unique, Special, Different

For example a person on the Spectrum, can be high functioning, low functioning, verbal, nonverbal, the "quirks" and "stims" vary as well

My daughter Zoey is 4 years old, she's nonverbal, and is on the severe end of the Spectrum - low functioning - requiring substantial support. 

I've never met anyone quite like her, she's beautiful, strong willed, funny, smart, she has a smile that lights up not just a room - her smile lights up the world. 

When Zoey was diagnosed just before her 2nd birthday we were told that she was severe and that there was no guarantee that she would ever speak. 

That didn't stop us or her from trying to communicate - we found our own way, a different way. 

I had found that music calmed Zoey during the tidal waves of frustration that come along with severe autism. 

Music became her therapy and her way of communication, she communicates via song lyrics and songs, and instead of talking or me hearing "her first word" 

Zoey sang

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was my daughter's first word
https://www.facebook.com/lifewithzoey/videos/524161461055186/

So when I had friends messaging me saying that a character reminded them of my child, or that when they saw this character they immediately thought of my Zoey - well, I had to see for myself. 

I had to meet this Julia, the 4 year old autistic Sesame Street character, with orange hair and different speech and unique quirks and who seems to really like Elmo, just as Zoey seems to really like Elmo. 

She did remind me of Zoey

 I watched a video of Julia singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and I was overcome with emotion...that was not Julia...that was Zoey! 

I left the room to grab a tissue to dry my face from the happy tears of finally seeing a character who was so much like my child. 

I came back into the room where I saw Zoey sitting on the couch watching the video of Julia singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with her friend Elmo. I watched as she replayed this video over and over 

My child met someone just like her

https://youtu.be/rIlLpwgjmXA

Thank you Sesame Street

Thank you PBS

That is Inclusion

That is Awareness

That is Autism 

That is Julia

She is Zoey 

I won't let go

 

I don't know how to explain what happened in words because Zoey and I do not use words to communicate and it's frustrating for both of us. She wants to tell me her needs and wants, and I want and need to hear them.

Zoey was not herself at all yesterday

She had in home ABA and even her therapist was shocked by Zoey's behavior

Behavior is communication and Zoey's behavior was erratic and she was having a hard time coping, as was I in watching her struggle.

It's hard for a nonverbal child to find a way to communicate that she's mad and she was mad, that was clearly obvious. This heightened level of anxiety was erupting into something catastrophic, her world was rocked and she was unsteady and I knew why, I just needed to think about it, but it's hard to think straight when you're in crisis or panic mode and we were in both.

When it finally clicked, I felt stupid and validated at the same time - well because I've known this for almost 3 years now. Her old iPhone that holds her musical playlist, the songs on this playlist are her way of communicating. Zoey lives life lyrically. Her life is a song and she is the lead singer. Each song on that playlist holds her words that she can play over and over, but these words are sung by others.

My child communicates via tablet by song lyrics and scripting of YouTube kids cartoons and catchy songs. 

I have sung to this child since the day she was born, and when she couldn't speak to me, I used music to speak to her so that when times were tough we could sit in the dark together and I could show her that she wasn't alone and that I wasn't going anywhere and that I would never let go. Through the music, Zoey and I found our way, she let me in to her world and it is a beautiful musical that's full of colors and love, its's gorgeous. It's getting to see a sunset, sunrise, and a full moon all in one moment of pure extravagant light

She lets me see that
She trusts me
She loves me

And Oh God, how I love and adore this child. She has changed my life, saved my life, and shown me the meaning of true unconditional love. I thank God for the gift that is her, everyday.

Zoey's iPhone was submerged in water and destroyed the other day. For 1 day my child lost her only way of communicating to me. Her voice, her words drowned in the water that took that device from her and her world crashed, chaos erupted, and she showed me by her actions and her disruptive behavior. She's had that device for almost 3 years, and now it was gone.

We were on a clean canvas with no paint and she wasn't ready to start a new painting at all, because she didn't want to paint, paint isn't her thing, music is, and the music was gone.

I had never seen her like this before, but I was wrong, I had seen her like this before. When Zoey was 2 years old and it was not long after her official diagnosis of severe nonverbal autism. She was in her room and I heard banging and her screaming. I ran in to sit by her and she inched away from me so fast, I didn't have time to even feel hurt by her not wanting me, I just wanted to help her. My child was in pain and I didn't know where or why, but she was in pain.

I didn't know what to do
I had my iPhone and I started playing music from my playlist
She stopped banging and screaming
She inched closer to me
She listened to the song
She put her tiny little finger in my hand and we sat there and listened to that song over and over in the dark on the floor of her room and we didn't let go


So yes, I had seen her like this before and so I grabbed my iPhone and I played that same song from over 2 years ago that we had listened to in the darkness of her room, and I held out my hand and she reached out and took my hand into hers.

She was calm
We had found our way out of the darkness and back into the light
She was alright
Her drowned words had resurfaced to the top and she was no longer sinking, she was floating and happy and we sat there smiling and we didn't let go

Today as I drove her to school she played her music, and usually it's many songs all sporadically played throughout the 21 minute ride to school. Today, she played a song that I haven't heard in awhile. It took me a few minutes, but when she kept stopping it and rewinding the lyrics to repeat the same lyrics of the song, I knew that this was her talking to me. I stopped and I listened to what her song had to say, her words to me, lyrically....

"You think you're lost
but your not lost on your own
you're not alone

It hurts my heart
to see you cry
I know it's dark
this part of life

and we're too small (she kept rewinding this particular part)

I will stand by you
I will help you through
When you've done all you can do
If you can't cope
I will dry your eyes
I will fight your fight
I will hold you tight
And I won't let go" - Rascal Flatts

When we arrived at her school, her aide was waiting to meet us and she watched us as we were singing the song together and after the song I said "I love you, I will fight your fight, we will do this together." and then I watched as she let me go and walked into school with her aide.