If I’m being completely honest, when my daughter was first diagnosed, I had no idea what I was doing.

The truth is, I was lost long before the official diagnosis.

Like many first-time parents, I thought maybe Amal was simply developing at her own pace. She was an only child, and because she wasn’t talking yet, we assumed she needed more opportunities to socialize with other children.

So we enrolled her in daycare.

She attended three days a week.

I remember telling myself that being around other children would encourage her to communicate and interact more.

Instead, every day became heartbreaking.

From the moment I dropped her off until the moment I picked her up, she cried.

The daycare had cameras throughout the facility, and I found myself checking them constantly from home. I would stand in my kitchen trying to cook while watching my daughter cry on my computer screen.

Many days, I cried with her.

As a mother, there is nothing worse than feeling like your child is hurting and not knowing how to help.

We stayed for four weeks.

Four very long weeks.

Looking back now, I realize I was searching for answers without even knowing what questions to ask.

Fortunately, one person changed the direction of our journey.

Amal’s speech therapist recognized that we needed more support. She recommended another daycare located inside a Presbyterian church in a beautiful area of Orlando. It was affordable, welcoming, and most importantly, experienced in supporting children with developmental differences.

Some of the children attending were on the autism spectrum but were integrated into a typical classroom environment.

At the time, I had no idea that walking through those doors would change my life.

It was there that I met another autism mother whose six-year-old son was nonverbal.

She became one of my first guides through a world I didn’t yet understand.

She answered questions I didn’t know to ask.

She explained terms I had never heard before.

She shared resources, advice, and experiences that would have taken me years to discover on my own.

Through her, I learned about one of the top developmental and behavioral pediatricians in Florida.

I immediately called for an appointment.

The wait time was eight months.

And I was considered lucky.

Many families were waiting even longer.

That was my first introduction to a reality many autism families know all too well: getting help is often a waiting game.

The same mother also introduced me to ABA therapy.

She explained what it was, how it worked, and why so many families considered it essential.

She also explained the cost.

Even with insurance, the numbers were staggering.

I remember wondering how families without insurance could possibly afford it.

I still wonder.

As I look back, I realize that while therapists and doctors played a critical role in our journey, some of the most important guidance came from another parent who had already walked the road ahead of me.

She didn’t just give me information.

She gave me hope.

And at that stage of my journey, hope was exactly what I needed.

What I didn’t know then was that the hardest day was still ahead of us.

After months of waiting, the day of Amal’s official diagnosis finally arrived.

And nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

In my next post, I’ll share the day of diagnosis, the emotions I experienced, and how that moment changed our family’s future forever.