Blessed are all parents, but none more so than those who care for children who come with extra challenges and tests.

I am the child who cannot talk.

You wonder how much I am aware of … I see that as well. I am aware of much;  I see whether you are happy and content or sad and fearful, patient or impatient, full of love and desire or if you are just doing your duty by me. I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater, for I cannot express myself or my needs as you are able to do.

You cannot conceive my isolation; it’s so complete at times. I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and then repeated to others. I do not give you answers to your everyday questions, responses over my well-being, share my needs, or comment about the…

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