Thirteen years ago, I had a plan. I would leave the world of advertising to be a mother to my son, but more importantly, his teacher. While my parents always taught me to stand up for the weakest person in the room, I’d take it further to teach my child how to fight for balance in the world, to seek out solutions for the underprivileged, the sick, and the disabled. I had visions in my head of what my teaching room would look like – an entire space dedicated to different cultures, diverse views, and compassionate souls who put the value of human life before personal lifestyle. My son would fall asleep every night proud of himself, and if nothing else, would have the perspective needed to experience life well beyond himself. That was the plan. But you know what they say about making plans. I left my job back then to be my son’s teacher. But instead of teaching him to be a fearless leader, he had to learn how to make eye contact, point, bring both hands together, understand words, and speak. Instead of a diverse teaching room, it was a makeshift occupational therapy space so he could learn to stay upright, climb, jump, and grasp objects. Along the way, I had to teach myself how to accept the fact that my son would not be that go-against-the-crowd fighter for the sick and disabled. He was the sick and disabled. And I was not his teacher. He was mine. While I’m not sure if my son goes to bed proud of himself every night, I’m 100% certain I go to bed proud of him. April is Autism Awareness Month. I’ve donated this blog to spread awareness about the 1 in 88 children – 1 in 54 boys – diagnosed with autism. Feel free to donate your next blog, too. Most Sincerely, Lori Bloglanthropist