Serendipity

There are five stages to mourning: denial/isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance. When you get the news that your child has autism, you mourn. You mourn the life you thought you were going to have. You mourn the child you thought you were going to raise. You mourn.

Since there is very little room for denial, the first thing that happens is isolation. No matter how many friends know other friends in your situation, you just really don't want to share yourself with anyone. It's just way too painful at first. Isolation carries you through that first tidal wave of pain.

So when one of my friends said she had a friend I should talk to, I just said, "Okay," and left it at that. Several people had "friends" I should talk to. Therapists or other moms, but I just really wasn't interested. Isolation.

But then my friend forwarded an e-mail from this fellow mommy and what was written was sooo what I was feeling that I felt compelled to contact her — so I did. I e-mailed her. It's actually amazing to talk to, be with, other parents in this situation. She asked me if I had heard about the Son-Rise Program®. Serendipity.

I had been reading everything I could in the hopes of finding something I could do for Ross. It was starting to look like I would need a special degree in order to help him, and clearly that would take too long, so I was starting to feel really, really helpless. I immediately looked up Son-Rise and — voila — PARENT-RUN PROGRAM. I started to look at everything on the Son-Rise website and knew that this was what I would do to supplement whatever the school district came up with. I had no idea how much it would actually change my life, but I knew I had to go get the training. I just knew. It was serendipity...as it almost always is.