With the last day of April upon us it stirred feelings up within me. April is the month of Autism Awareness and my youngest has autism. Next Saturday he will be thirteen years old officially a teenager. My youngest has come a long ways from not being able to talk very well until he was five or six. He was seven when he was completely potty trained. There is a lot to caring for a child that has a disability it requires a whole lot of patience.

It was hard at first accepting that my son was different I didn’t want to face it at all. No one wants to accept that something is wrong with what they created. My sons grandmother pointed it out put I refused to pay attention to what she said. She wasn’t mean about it she never was a mean person. She was trying to raise my awareness. Finally I took my son to the doctor and sure enough it was found that he was autistic. I was devastated in the beginning let’s face it the black community aren’t the biggest supporters of mental health. Growing up people believed that kids needs to be beat but some required more like medicine. Mental health awareness have come all a way from the 1300 when it was believe that a person was possessed so holes were drilled into a person’s skull as a way to let out supposedly evil spirits.

My youngest is one of my heroes he’s so sweet, giving and very caring. He and I share a very strong bond. I’m so proud of him. He’s growing everyday. We enjoy the same music and movies. His two favorite movies are Three O’clock High and Never Been Kissed. Yes he loves Never Been Kissed because he says that he enjoys happy endings. I have come a long way too. Many things have helped to  change me into the person that I am today and my son is one of them. I love him so much and I am so very thankful that God gave him to me. Looking forward to what the future has for my son and know that there will be many blessings to come.